■ 



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| LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. £ 
, NX/2 S3 8 I 

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ku.VITED STATES OF AMERICA.! 



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'M4 



.,V.,?:< ■ 



S E E M O N S. 



BY 



CHARLES WADSWOETH, 



MINISTER OF CALVARY CnURCn, SAN FRANCISCO. 




NEW YORK AND SAN FRANCISCO. 

ROMAN & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 
1869. 



Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1869, by 
A. ROMAN & COMPANY, 
the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
Southern District of New York. 



ALVOED, rill NT EE. 



AD VERTTSEMEN T. 



This volume is published at the request of personal 
friends who desire to possess, in permanent form, some of 
the ordinary and miscellaneous discourses delivered from 
their pulpit. The selection has been made with regard 
simply to variety. And in furnishing the MSS., the 
author has felt at liberty neither to recast their forms of 
thought, nor remove sucli redundancy of style as all 
speakers find necessary when writing for oral delivery. 
It has seemed to him that the request contemplated an 
exact reproduction of the spoken discourse, and beyond 
a compliance with that request, he has, in this publica- 
tion, no expectation. 

Sax Francisco, Jan. 1869. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

God's Thoughts 1 

The One Idea 20 

Peejudice 36 

Insinceee Unbelief 53 

The Gospel Call 71 

Development and Discipline 92 

Self-Knowledge 112 

Cheistian Influence , . . . 131 

Geace and Works 152 

The Division of Spoil. 175 

Redemption 190 



CONTEXTS. 

PAGK 

The Child-Teacher : 203 

Communion ... . . 221 

The Mortal Immortalized 231 

A Spectacle to Angels 241 

Thankfulness 254 

The Feast of Harvest 276 

The Young Man's Mission 305 

The Mother's Sorrow * 329 

Progress in Decay 352 



8EEM0NS. 



"GOD'S THOUGHTS." 

" My thoughts are not your thougJits, saith the Lord.'' 1 — Isaiah, lv. 8. 

The word " thought " is here used objectively. It ex- 
presses a result and not a process. Essentially perhaps 
all thought-power is alike. Certainly in all our attempts 
to consider God, Ave must reason analogically from the 
finite. We can form no idea of any divine attribute ex- 
cept from its miniature in humanity. And we are to 
regard it not as a mere figure of speech, that God made 
man in his own image as well mental as moral. The 
Divine intellect may be spoken of as the glorious arche- 
type after which finite mind was cast. And although, 
as bringing infinity into conditions of time and space, 
all language must express falsehood when concerned 
with Deity, yet when the Bible speaks of God as in 
the exercise of volitions and emotions, we are not to 
regard it as mere accommodation to a false usus loquendi, 
but as a true representation. The Godhead is not an 
impassible composite of infinite wisdom and power. His 
purposes are not immense icebergs floating downward 
1 



2 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



in a fathomless inexorable gulf-stream of sovereignty. 
He is my Heavenly Father, and all his sovereignty is 
love. We do not dishonor God by likening him unto 
man. We only honor man as God honored him when 
made in his own image, when we say that in regard of 
faculties in essence, and feelings in exercise, the human 
mind was fashioned after the infinite Archetype. 

The assertion of the text that " God's thoughts are not 
mail's thoughts'''' describes a result not a process, and 
with this necessary and manifest limitation let us pro- 
ceed to consider it. We are first to illustrate and then 
apply the truth, that God's thoughts are not our own 
thoughts. 

First, we are to illustrate it. And here we need only 
contrast the human with the Divine style of thinking. 
Observe some particulars: 1. Creation — I mean the ma- 
terial universe in its forms and phenomena. This is*one 
of God's thoughts. As every product of human skill is 
but a human thought realized — inasmuch as painting, 
sculpture, architecture, are but expressions in material- 
ism of simple pre-existent ideas in the mind of the artist, 
just so is it of God's handiwork. The visible creation 
that surrounds us on every side and spreads away into 
immensity beyond us, is only an embodied thought of 
the infinite, uncreated Intelligence. 

Or, dividing this vast whole into parts, and regarding 
each part as a particular thought of the Eternal, you 
may speak of this earth as one of God's thoughts, and 
yonder sun as One of God's thoughts. 

Or, still further descending, you may regard the human 
body, and the soul, and the ocean, and the cataract, and the 
volcano, and the singing-bird, and the lily, and the dew- 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



3 



drop, and the rainbow, and the lightning, and the murmur- 
ing stream, and the roaring thunder — these, and indeed all 
various material forms and phenomena, you may regard 
as nothing else than God's goodful and glorious thoughts, 
expressed physically, written radiantly on the tablets, or 
uttered musically in the voices of the universe. 

Creation, then, in all its grand complication, is only a 
manifest thought of the Infinite Intelligence. 

And tell me if it be at all like one of man's thoughts ! 
Equip man with omnipotence, and set him to create a 
universe — and would it resemble the universe as it is ? 
By no means! For, observe, 1st. That man's universe 
would be absolutely consolidated. Into one immense 
continent would all these world-islands be cast, and all 
tribes and types of life inhabit it as a common dwelling ! 
And yet how unlike this is the divine work. You find 
throughout it comparatively no grand consolidations, but 
innumerable worlds, all immeasurably separated, each 
hopelessly secluded. 

And this is not after man's thought. For his agoniz- 
ing regret this day is that he can not fling the line of a 
mighty telegraph from star to star, and thus, even in face 
of the immutable ordinances of heaven, gather these iso- 
lated islands of life into one vast virtual consolidation ! 

Observe, 2dly. That a universe projected by man 
would be motionless and steadfast. We build our homes, 
not on the waters, that they may be locomotive, but on 
the shore, that they may be fixed. But God's universe 
is in everlasting motion. The earth whereon we dwell, 
and the systems of worlds that surround it, are rushing 
through space with inconceivable velocity. And all this 
is assuredly not according to human wisdom. We may, 



4 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



indeed, upon reflection, learn the optimism of the arrange- 
ment ; but confessedly, a priori, we should not so have 
ordered it. 

And so, without further argument, it appears manifest 
that a universe so divided, and revolving, is not such a 
material system as an almighty man would have con- 
trived ; and standing forth this clay as one of God's 
thoughts made manifest, it clearly demonstrates the text's 
truth, That the thoughts of God are not like mail's 
thoughts. 

Or, descending from the survey of a universe of worlds 
to consider, the economy of a single world, even with 
greater force shall we feel the same truth. Set a man to 
construct a single world, and would it be like this world? 
Would man have spread over three-quarters of its entire 
surface this waste of waters ? or have flung up these im- 
mense mountain-ranges ? or spread out these desolate 
sand-plains ? Would he have produced, after their kinds, 
these tribes of brutal life, and filled the wilderness with 
ravening beasts, and the ocean with monsters ? Would 
he, in short, have made such a world as this ? I am not, 
indeed, intimating that any wise man really thinks he 
could have contrived a better one. The man who hon- 
estly believes he can improve a divine work is no son of 
Solomon. And true philosophy will ever confess that 
what seemeth " the foolishness of God is wiser than 
men." But I am insisting here that there is a broad 
difference between a human and a divine ideal of world- 
making. 

And I repeat, that such a world as this no wise man 
would have created. He would have filled irp the ocean 
with plow-ground, and sloped the mountains gently 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



0 



for vineyards, and covered with rich verdure the sands 
of the wilderness. And the waters would have brought 
forth after their kind only beautiful things, and every 
creature moving in the forests would have been musical 
and fair ; and the sky would have been without cloud on 
its rich blue, and the year without winter or storm in its 
long summer of loveliness. So that a world fresh from 
the hand of a human creator would have seemed, as well 
in the economy of its life as of its materialism, altogether 
unlike the world we inhabit. For this world is one of 
God's thoughts, and such a world would be one of man's 
thoughts ; and herein is the truth made manifest, that 
God's thoughts are not like man's thoughts. 

Now we might pursue this line of thought indefinitely, . 
but with this simple indication of our meaning, let us 
pass to another general illustration, and observe, 

Secondly, That Providence is one of God's peculiar 
thoughts. I use the word here in its widest sense, as 
expressing God's management of his universe after its 
creation. And whether we regard the entire economy 
of Providence as a stupendous whole, or each successive 
development in its separation, the same truth will be 
manifest. 

Endow a wise man with omnipotence, and enthrone 
him as sovereign of the universe, and would he govern 
it as God has governed, and does yet govern, it ? Study 
that economy of Providence as it had to do with our 
world before man inhabited it. Head with geology 
the record written on the planet's crust, and you will 
perceive how, during innumerable ages, earth was the 
home of successive races, each of a higher life and finer 
organization than its predecessor; so that the grand 



6 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



law of that Providence was an almost imperceptible 
progress through incalculable ages of ages, — and would 
a wise man so have ordered it ? Why, so unphilosophic 
does all this seem, that we can hardly persuade our- 
selves to accept God's handwriting on these adamantine 
tablets as true records of our doings? Man certainly 
would have ordered the whole thing differently. Instead 
of those mysterious periods of slowly ascending life, he 
would have rounded earth into beauty at first as a home 
for immortals, and breathed divine life into man made 
in God's image. 

Or if we confine our thoughts to the present economy 
of Providence, the same truth will be apparent. Surely 
a wise man would not order things as Jehovah orders 
them. The history of a human administration would 
not read like the world's history through the last sixty 
centuries. That destruction of the primitive Eden; 
those ages of antediluvian abomination ; those wander- 
ings and wars of God's chosen people; those periodic 
visitations of famine and pestilence, mantling earth with 
sackcloth ; those barbaric battles, wherein eighteen times 
the entire population of the globe has been swept away 
in carnage; these, and such as these, are God's provi- 
dential thoughts ; and are they like man's thoughts ? 

Nay, look at the providential aspect of things even 
now on the face of the planet — how darkness covers 
the earth and gross darkness the people ! — of the hun- 
dreds of millions of living men, at least three quarters 
degraded to the depths of ignorance and superstition! 
Behold how righteousness is depressed, and iniquity 
enthroned and triumphant ! How unequal the distri- 
bution of the evil and the good ! how limited the dif- 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



7 



fusion of Christianity and civilization ! Yea, behold 
what oppressions, what violence, what boastful iniquity, 
what throes of agony, what convulsions among kingdoms 
and nations, as if the great heart of the race were break- 
ing in the overstrain of its bondage, until all this air, 
once musical with the song of the sons of God, is filled 
with lamentation and requiem ! 

Now endow a wise and good man with divine sover- 
eignty, and would he manage things in this way ? I do 
not ask if he could devise better things ? I know he 
could not. I may not understand it, yet certain I am 
that in the sublime purpose of bringing good out of evil, 
there is manifest in the present providential economy 
the most absolute omniscience. Our dissatisfaction with 
God's doings is the result of our finitude. We judge 
prematurely — calling the fruit sour, because it hath not 
ripened. We judge selfishly — bemoaning the pearly 
shell as it breaks round the plumes of the imperial eagle. 
We judge partially — observing only the one wheel 
which seems aimlessly revolving in mire and dust, and 
not the whole flaming chariot in its career of victory. 
We judge from wrong stand-points — looking from the 
footstool upward to the cloud's dark side, and not down- 
ward from the throne of God upon its ineffable bright- 
ness. Our judgments are false, because finite. And 
yet swayed by such judgments, I repeat it, as Jehovah 
governs the world to-day no wise man would govern 
it. Surely on this point " God's thoughts are not our 
thoughts." Place at the head of human affairs an 
omnipotent philanthropist, and how soon would every 
dark thing be swept from a groaning creation. How 
the captive would leap from his chain, and the con- 



8 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



queror lay off his mail, and the cries of violence cease, 
and the rod of the oppressor be broken! How these 
dark places of cruelty would be irradiated with heavenly 
light, and Christianity, borne as on angel- wings, circle 
the round world ; and man in the glory of his primitive 
creation, yea, in the higher glory of his redeemed and 
regenerated nature would stand gloriously up on a 
renewed earth to mate with the crowned children of 
the skies, in the looking-for of destinies as high, in 
the inspiration of energies as unabating ! 

Surely we all must acknowledge this ! A world 
under a human providence would be in all aspects 
unlike the world as it is. For such a providence 
would be a thought of man, and Providence as it is, 
is a thought of God, and herein again is the text's truth 
illustrated thus " Your thoughts are not my thoughts, 
saith the Lord.'''' 

Now were there limits and a necessity, the same 
train of illustration might be pursued in regard of 
things spiritual; and quite as apparent would it be 
that finite human wisdom would not have written such 
a book as this Bible, nor devised such a plan of sal- 
vation as it embodies. But we may not enlarge. And 
indeed, as we may be addressing some disposed to 
cavil at revelation on just this ground, what we 
have to say on this point will best be said under our 
other division. 

Passing then from the text argument, let us attend, 
Secondly, to its Application. 

I. And our first remark is addressed to this very 
class, who reject the Bible because to their finitude it 
seems either unwise or incomprehensible. 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



0 



You will not mistake the application. "We are not 
admitting that there is in the Bible aught but a dis- 
play of the very highest wisdom. On this point every 
infidel cavil has been a thousand times answered, and 
w r e need not here pause to review the advocacy. We 
would simply bring upon the unbeliever's conscience 
the truth w T e have in hand. We have shown you how 
in creation and Providence there are many things hard 
to be understood, and bearing, at first view, the seem- 
ing of foolishness. So that had man been the architect 
and administrator, there would have been a different 
world and a different economy of government. And 
so, mark you, from all this you must draw arguments 
against creation and Providence as the manifest 
" thoughts of God," ere, from the same things observ- 
able in the Bible, you object to it as a divine revela- 
tion. 

Indeed, were there occasion, we might here exhibit 
an analogy so wonderfully fine between nature and 
revelation as to demonstrate their common origin and 
inspiration. They are evidently "thoughts" of the 
same supreme intellect. 

Alas for the consistency of unbelief! Every argu- 
ment against inspiration is an argument for atheism ! 
You tell me of large portions of the Bible, such as its 
long catalogues of barbaric names which seem utterly 
useless. And I tell you that along the surface of our 
globe there are vast regions of desert and rock as 
apparently useless. 

You tell me , how God, in the Bible, allowed and 
sanctioned bloody wars demonstrative of cruelty. And 
I tell you that under God's providential rule, have been 
i* 



10 



GOB'S THOUGHTS. 



permitted wars more terrible and destructive than 
inspired men ever dreamed of! 

You tell me that the Bible's grand central truth — 
man's redemption by an Incarnate God — is an absurd- 
ity ; that the very thought of such infinite condescension 
of the Divine nature is the egotism of human madness. 
And I tell you that the great central truth of Creation 
and Providence — that God hath condescended to create 
and preserve man — is just as absurd. 

Yes, and I might carry this comparison between the 
hard things of nature and the hard things of revelation, 
to any conceivable extent ; and fast as you proved from 
the one that there is no God in the Bible, I would prove 
out of your own mouth, as well, that there is no God in 
the universe. 

In all these declamatory cavils against revelation, men 
are forgetting the great truth, written as with sunbeams 
on the very forefront of the universe, that, " As the heav- 
ens are higher than the earth, so are God's thoughts 
higher than man's thoughts !" 

The poor erring creature of an hour, who can not build 
a hovel that will not leak, nor weave a perfect garment 
to cover him, he — wonderful man that he is — would lift 
his thoughts into brotherhood with God's thoughts, and 
adjust the complicate sublimities of revelation by the 
square and the line of his insignificant faculties ! Why, 
the sceptic should begin further back and earlier with 
his scepticism ! As his arguments lie as strongly against 
creation and Providence — upon them, as God's earliest 
mistakes, he should lift up his logic. Go to, then, ye 
despisers of this Bible ! Get ye to the councils of eter- 
nity, and enlighten the Divine mind on the true philoso- 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. H 

phy of world-making and world-managing ! Go level 
yonder mountain ! Go subdue this raging ocean ! Go 
free yonder sun from its spots ! Go bestud yonder fir- 
mament with gems of greater glory ! Go roll those con- 
stellations through the skies in more harmonious and 
magnificent revolutions ! Go persuade the Eternal One 
that your thoughts are best when worlds are to be cre- 
ated and governed ! And then you shall have full license 
to lift up hammer and ax upon the carved work of our 
sanctuary ; and then will God delight to sit at your feet, 
learning how to reveal himself as a God and a Saviour. 
For then will our text be only a great falsehood — " And 
your ways will be God's ivays, and your thoughts will be 
God^s thoughts, saith the Lord of Hosts." 

II. But though I may not be addressing infidelity as 
bold as this, yet I am surely addressing infidelity, if of a 
milder type, yet as sadly disastrous. Within our own time 
a new philosophy hath invaded the church of Christ, with 
its watchwords " spiritual insight," and " the moral rea- 
son," and "intuitional capacity," setting itself to over- 
throw the indispensable condition of all true piety — the 
entire, unquestioning, adoring submission alike of life, and 
conscience, and intellect unto God. And while the church 
receives not this philosophy formally — for this were , 
openly to deny the faith — yet, under its insidious and 
malign influence, there has come to pass a setting up 
within Zion of our own intellectual and moral judgments 
as critic and arbiter of the great doctrines of revelation. 

Doctrines that are profound or mysterious, if not 
openly rejected, are at least modified to square with our 
philosophy. And the positive declarations of God are 
lowered to the comprehension of our natural reason. 



12 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



For example : The doctrine of the adorable Trinity in 
unity, while clearly revealed in Scripture, is confessedly 
altogether above our reason, which we are to accept in- 
tellectually on the alone ground, that unquestioning 
faith in God's word is the highest function and exhi- 
bition of reason ; and yet men, thinking to subject the 
infinite to the finite, ply this great truth with their logic 
until, on the one hand, the Divine unity is lost in a three- 
fold Godhead, or, on the other, the Divine Trinity sunk 
with a threefold manifestation — the simple dramatis per- 
sonal of a Divine revelation ! 

And so of the doctrine of the two natures in Christ, 
of the Divine sovereignty as it stands related to human 
free-agency, of original sin, and imputation, and justifi- 
cation by faith, and the regeneration of the spirit, and the 
resurrection of the body ; these doctrines, and others of 
this type, are all subjected to our poor finite logic, to be 
lowered to our comprehension or adjusted into the har- 
mony of a philosophic creed. 

And in all this we are practically and fearfully infidel. 
"We are putting this fair body of God's truth to the 
torture, to compel a false utterance ! We are claiming for 
our reason a positive Omniscience ! We are making our 
thoughts God's thoughts, and God's thoughts our thoughts. 

Alas, foolish reasoner ! dare you carry the same canons 
of cavil into God's world of nature ? Are there no 
mysteries, either in Creation or . Providence, which you 
can neither comprehend in their separation, nor compass 
in their harmonious co-existence ? Is there no mystery 
in this whole present march and management of things 
beyond the line of your logic ? Is there no mystery in 
this universal mingling of evil with good — this virtue 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



13 



depressed — this vice enthroned and triumphant? In 
that tear in the eye of faith, in that pang in the heart 
of love ? Can you reconcile it with your Arcadian ideal 
of infinite goodness — the barbarity of great national war- 
fare — the baleful comet scattering terror through the 
skies — the earthquake engulfing great cities — the vol- 
cano destroying great provinces — this awful reign and 
shadow of Death making earth one great sepulchre? 
Can you understand all these things and their mighty 
God unto perfection ? Alas ! alas ! my hearers, we 
have not yet become like gods ! The serpent-tempter 
lied when he promised it ! We are, as yet learners in 
God's school-room, not advisers in his council-cham- 
ber ! We shall understand things better by and by, 
when eternity flings its full light on the page of our 
scholarship ! But until then humility is the apt temper 
of a learner. And faith, not comprehension, the great 
law of the scholarship ! Till then ours must be the 
submission of an infantile mind to an Infinite Intelligence 
— the trust of a short-sighted child in an all-seeing 
Father — receiving in unquestioning faith every truth of 
God, in all its marvel and mystery. " For our thoughts 
are not God's thoughts, saith the Lord of Hosts." 

III. But the thought under consideration applies as 
.well to the phenomena of Christianity as to its facts. 
Take, for example, its gradual increase and develop- 
ment. 

The characteristic of the age is impatience of any 
thing but a demonstrative and headlong progress. In 
the accumulation of wealth, in the diffusion of knowl- 
edge, in the processes of locomotion, indeed in all the 
march and movement of human life, the old standard of 



14 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



steady but slow advance satisfies do one. And, sad tc 
tell, this impatience goes with us into Christian faith and 
experience. God's operation in converting the world 
seems too slow to be real. And we are overborne with 
doubt and despondency when we see how, after eighteen 
long centuries of struggle, the Gospel hath no fuller 
course and no greater glory. We are impatient for 
moral miracles. - We would have nations born to God in 
a day, and every high thing that exalteth itself against 
Heaven, cast down as a dead tree by a storm, in the 
triumphant march of the Redeemer. And yet, in all 
this, our desire is only — alas ! to have, " our thoughts 
God's thoughts, and God's thoughts our thoughts." 

For tell me where, either in creation or Providence, 
God thus hurries to conclusions ? How many ages were 
consumed in the slow progress whereby this planet 
became fitted for human habitation ? Why, the very 
fuel consumed in your houses is the slow product of 
countless years. And the tiny gem of your adornment 
was crystallized only in an immensity of generations ! 
Jehovah's great law of work is no hurrying and head- 
long progress. He works slowly, and in circles of im- 
mense sweep ! A thousand years are but as a day in 
the majesty of his movements. And in all this quiet and 
sIoav progress how truly Godlike he seems ! Man, 
poor man, in the evolution of his purposes, may well be 
impatient and restless, for he distrusts his own power 
and the wisdom of his own devices — his whole life is a 
hand's breadth, and he hath no space for delay. But in 
regard of God working with infinite resources and eter- 
nal duration, how glorious is the majestic quietude 
wherewith he slowly evolves his stupendous purposes. 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



It is a wonderful manifestation of infinite power, and 
wisdom, and changelessness. It is Godlike — God- 
like ! 

And as verily Godlike, mark you, in redemption as in 
creation and Providence ! We ought to look for and 
glory in the same great law in the spiritual as in the 
natural, to find the history of grace written in the same 
character and style as the history of creation. And 
what is the style of God's natural history ? Why the 
student of earth's progress, recorded in the hieroglyphs 
of geology, finds that for immense periods this world was 
- peopled by monsters, and that innumerable genera- 
tions of such terrible and gigantic forms of life constitu- 
ted the very steps in its progress tc its final glory as 
man's dwelling-place. 

And why then should we wonder, nay, why rather 
should we not rejoice, to find an analogy to all this in 
the records of the spiritual? — that, so to speak, the 
moral geology of the planet is but a counterpart, or 
transcript, of the physical; that in its spiritual strata, as 
well, embosomed in the church's annals of successive 
generations, there should be found just such monstrous 
shapes, great heresies, gigantic apostasies, dark semi- 
heathenisms, terrible infidelities, foul Christian abomina- 
tions, the moral mammoths and mastodons of those 
transition ages of the church wherein she went slowly 
on to her glorious consummation ! 

This is the way God works always. And if you 
accept it in the natural, why complain of it in the 
spiritual ? If you rejoice to know that the jewel set in 
the frontlet of a king is the slow product of ages, how 
can you look that he shall crystallize in the years of a 



16 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



generation the great brilliants that are to glorify the 
diadem of a God ! 

Indeed, so far from discouragements in this slow prog- 
ress of Christianity, we have therein only fuller proof 
of its Divine origin, nobler prophecy of its ultimate con- 
summation. It is demonstrating its adaptation to every 
stage of human society, every order of human mind, 
every form of human government. " All other religious 
systems have proved local and temporary; carried across 
a few lines of longitude and latitude, they perish as 
exotics ; perpetuated a few generations, they become su- 
perannuated !" But in the slow, sure, steadfast march of 
Christianity abroad over all lands, and adown the genera- 
tions, it approves its divine life and origin. Indeed, had 
the Gospel sprung into full glory at once, we should 
mistrust it as a momentary triumph of the human and 
the carnal. 

It comes — sure as the Eternal One sitteth on the throne 
of the universe, it comes — the glory of a Gospel triumph- 
ant over all enemies, and established among all nations ! 
But it comes not as man's work comes. It comes not 
with observation. It comes in the slow, and quiet, and 
resistless might wherewith Omnipotence ever works. 
And alas for our feeble faith and our feeble reason, that 
would have it otherwise ! We would have diamonds 
frozen in a single hour like a winter rain drop ! We 
would have oak-trees grown in a single night like the 
gourd of the prophet ! We would have the great earth 
shaken by miracle, and dead empires quickened in a 
moment as at the trumpet of the Resurrection ! " We 
would have our thoughts God's thoughts, and God's 
thoughts our thoughts." 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



17 



IV. Finally : There is a still more consoling applica- 
tion of this truth to things unseen and eternal — Immor- 
tality — Immortality ! The state of the redeemed and 
risen spirit ! How we love to consider its conditions, 
and ponder the realities of its " far more exceeding and 
eternal weight of glory !" And all this is well if we 
think reverently and wisely, for it brightens the eye and 
strengthens the nerve of the racer to catch the sparkle 
of the crown-gems that glorify the goal ! But we should 
advance in this high path, remembering how unlike 
human thoughts are the thoughts of the Infinite One, 
and not presuming to build heaven's great realities out 
of our own imaginations ! 

The grand characteristic and charm of the eternal 
world is its utter unlikeliness to the temporal and earthly. 
And therefore unto the human imagination, powerful 
only to recombine images of its experience, all the reali- 
ties of heaven must remain for the present, unspeakable, 
inconceivable. 

A Christian on earth is a king's child far away from, 
the royal palace, and kept under teachers — a poor 
pilgrim in a desert making painful progress to an unseen 
and unknown city and kingdom, with no experience, 
and, therefore, no ideas of the splendors of royalty. 
And suppose, that in respect of the earth, a king's child, 
born in some province, and never leaving the sphere of 
provincial instructors, should set himself to conceive of 
the glorious realities of the paternal palace and kingdom. 
Or that a pilgrim, born and bred amid the sands of the 
wilderness, should think to paint for himself the splen- 
dors of the imperial metropolis. Then how partial and 
pitiful would be their loftiest ideal ! The boy's dream 



18 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



of the palace would be only a larger school-roorn, its 
appointments perhaps lovelier, and its tasks less ! And 
the pilgrim's picture of metropolitan glories would be 
only a larger encampment, with perhaps gaudier tents 
in the wilderness. 

And just so is it of eternity. With an imagination 
creative only in rebuilding things visible, man can 
not even conceive of the unseen and eternal. Nor does 
revelation attempt to supply the deficiency. It tells us, 
indeed, what there is not in heaven ! And in a few figures 
gathered from present experience, sets forth some acces- 
sories of its physical realities. But it tells us no more. 
And, alas, with this little the mind is not satisfied ! It 
sets itself ambitiously to conceive of the whole grand 
reality. It gathers together the fine metaphors of reve- 
lation — the trees of life, and the rivers of gladness, and 
the palms of victory, and the thrones of power ; and 
taking what is at the most only figure for literal descrip- 
tion, and what is at best an accessory for a grand 
element, dresses up for itself a realm of fancy, whose 
entire fashion and furniture are of " things seen " and 
" things temporal" 

Alas, foolish reasoner ! All as foolish as a tiny chrysalis 
which should dream of the broad heaven into which it 
was just bursting, as only its poor opaque shell expanded 
a few feet in circumference ! As foolish as the poor 
children of the Polar world fashioning the toys of their 
holidays, in the likeness of sledge, and boat, and walrus- 
spear, the very implements of their fathers' forlorn and 
perilous labor ! 

Oh, beware, how, in regard of the all-glorious future, 
you make your thoughts God's thoughts/ Gates of 



GOD'S THOUGHTS. 



19 



pearl, and rivers of bright water, and flowers of won- 
drous hue, and skies of cloudless splendor. Yea, reunited 
families dwelling in glorious mansions, and the flash of 
angel-plumes, and the swell of angel voices. Why, all 
these have been known and experienced in mortal lives! 
They are all " of the earth, earthy !" They are only 
the soiled and faded drapery of God's trampled foot- 
stool ! And beware how you think to lift so coarse a 
foot-cloth, and spread it as a true regalia of purple and 
ermine over the blaze of God's throne ! 

Beware how you work those poor earthly colors on the 
eternal canvas — or model the' many mansions of God's 
House after a human architecture ! Heaven, as you are 
wont think of it, is only the imperfect dream of a poor 
finite imagination. But yonder heaven unto ichich we 
aspire, is the realization of the loftiest conception of the 
imagination of God. 

" And as the heavens are higher than the ear$h, so 
are my thoughts higher than your thoughts, saith the 
Lord:' 



THE ONE IDEA. 



" This one thing I do." — Philippians, Hi. 13. 

This was Paul's great motto. He was a man of 
one idea ; one master-passion moved upon all his life- 
springs; one great object 'he cared for; one great thing- 
he did. And though the phrase has fallen into dis- 
repute through misapplication, yet the history of Paul 
teaches that no man's mind is large enough to entertain 
more than one idea; and no man's life long enough to 
realize more than one idea. 

"We, shall see presently that there are, in certain minds, 
notions often classified under the title of "The One 
Idea," which have really no right to it. They are at 
the most only imperfect and fragmentary notions or 
thoughts, half ideas, or quarter ideas, and so not large 
enough to fill a man's whole soul ; and the mind which 
fastens on such a mutilated idea, either finds itself, in 
its expansion, half-empty, or else, collapsing to embrace 
it, becomes a very little soul. But Paul's experience 
teaches us, that one unmutilated and entire idea, is as 
much as a man can entertain in his soul, or actualize in 
his lifetime. 

Nor herein was Paul's experience anomalous. Such 
has been the exj>erience as well of all truly efficient 
men. None of them ever entertained more than one 



THE ONE IDEA. 



21 



great aim or purpose of being. All truly good and 
great men, in these sacred records, belong to the same 
class. 

Noah was a man of one idea. His idea was an ark ! 
And though he did other things, took care of his house- 
hold, educated his children, mingled in antediluvian 
society, and took part in antediluvian politics, yet the 
one great thought moving as a glorious dream through 
all his chambers of imagery, was something that would 
float upon stormy and shoreless seas! And this one 
tiling he did — he built. 

Abraham was of this same class. His one idea was a 
city ! He too did other things ; he trained his servants ; 
he commanded his household after him ; he was a kind 
father, a faithful friend ; a princely old patriarch in all 
lands wherein he sojourned. But amid his fairest 
dreams by the ancestral waters, a great voice out of 
heaven spake to him of " a city which had foundations 
builded by God." And behold ! ever afterward it 
was haunting his soul ; a vision of unearthly splendor ; 
and his eye was ever uplifted to the firmament, as if 
in its far depths he could catch the flash of glorious 
pinnacles. Of one great thing he thought — toward one 
great thing he journeyed. "A city which had founda- 
tions, lohose builder was God." And in this purpose we 
perceive only an illustration of the truth, that as the true 
primitive man was made in God's image, so the truly 
regenerate man resumes that image. For in all this 
man becomes Godlike. The divine nature is of the 
same type of being. It lives and acts in realization 
of one great idea, love ! love ! Differing, indeed, in 
mode and manifestation, like the Theophany of the 



22 



THE ONE IDEA. 



Exodus, sometimes an overshadowing gloom, sometimes 
a surpassing glory. . Yet ever, amid the immensity 
and multiplicity of its operations, from the enamel of a 
flower and the feathering of an insect's wing to the 
pomp of the starry heavens and the soaring wing of 
the archangel, making the truth manifest that benev- 
olence is the very essence of the Infinite — that omnip- 
otence is only almighty love, omniscience only all- 
wise love, and omnipresence only an immense love — 
that God lives, and operates, and governs, only to 
love. 

Nor of regenerated men only is the thought true — 
of all men who retain amid their moral ruins some 
lines of the mutilated divine image — is this a char- 
acteristic. A singleness of aim and effort ever hath 
been — ever will be — the secret of all noble human 
accomplishment. Napoleon was the most efficient man 
of his own time, yea, of all time; not because gifted 
above his fellows, either physically or intellectually, 
but because universal empire was his single aim — he 
lived only to conquer ! Demosthenes was the prince 
of all earth's orators, not because God gave him a 
splendid voice, and exquisite grace of motion, but 
because eloquence was his one idea. He lived only 
to sweep, as with a roused tempest, over all the JEolian 
sympathies of the human heart. Newton was the king 
of astronomers, not because his eye was keener as it 
scanned the heavens, nor because God gave him mighty 
wings to sweep through the empyrean, but because, 
with the power of an omnipresent dream, the constella- 
tions of heaven were flashing on his soul! The stars 
were in his heart. His life was in the stars. So is it 



THE ONE IDEA. 



23 



ever: singleness of aim, oneness of effort — the gather- 
ing of thought, feelino- heart, soul, life into one intense 
absorbing passion — is the secret of all greatness. And 
no wonder that Paul was the very chief of the apostles, 
so that the earth shook at his tread, as when a giant 
goes on pilgrimage; not because he had read Grecian 
lore, in Cilician schools, and mastered the Hebrew law 
at Gamaliel's feet, but because, with his heart all afire 
within him, and his eye, as the eagle's on the sun, 
fixed on one sublime purpose — in that one thing he 
gloried — to that one thing he tended. And the secret 
of his apostolic power and evangelical achievement was 
in the text's motto and watchword, " This one thing 
I do." 

Paul — we repeat — was greatly efficient just because he 
was pre-eminently a man of one idea. But then, be it ob- 
served, his was a whole one ! and not a poor fragment of a 
thought. We have seen that there are men, termed men 
" of one idea," who have no claim to the title. In popular 
language— an idea is the image, or form, of a thing in the 
mind. A complete idea must therefore be the image of a 
whole thing, and not merely of one of its parts. And so 
we term those men, only men of half an idea — who in ar- 
chitecture think only of the house's foundation — or in 
education care for only one class of mental faculties — or 
in politics labor for only one state, or section, or color, in 
a great nation — or in theology look ever only on one as- 
pect of a many-sided truth, as the Antinomian seeing 
only God's sovereignty m salvation, or the Arminian see- 
ing only man's free-agency, both practically separating 
faith and good works as they lie indissolubly wedded in 
the Divine thought — or in practical morality regard 



24 



TEE ONE IDEA. 



some one of the great sisterhood of human virtues as 
alone important, so that they become intemperate in their 
advocacy of temperance, and licentious in their conflicts 
with impurity, or Sabbath-breaking in their efforts to 
sanctify the Sabbath. 

All such men's notions of things are mutilations, and 
therefore not ideas at all, but only fragments of ideas ; 
and as half an idea is too small to fill a whole heart and 
soul, they roll about in the mental vacuity, making the 
poor man as noisy as a child's rattle, and for the same 
reason — his mind is not half full ! 

But differing from all such men, Paul's one idea was a 
complete one, entire in all its parts, symmetrical in its 
proportions. 

Let us consider it carefully that we may learn what it 
was. 

"This one thing I do, forgetting the things that are be- 
hind and reaching forth unto the things that are before, 
I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling 
of God in Christ Jesus." 

He uses here his favorite figure of the old race-course. 
Before his faith-lit eye was flashing, at life's far goal, 
heaven's unfading crown of righteousness, and like the 
Grecian athlete, night and day, might and main, body 
and soul, he strove and struggled onward and upward. 
And the end of all his efforts, and the aim of all his 
stragglings, was progress in holiness, progress toward 
heaven ! This one thing he did, he pressed toward 
glory ! 

Other things indeed he did, and did earnestly and 
nobly. But then they were all subordinate things, or 
rather they were only parts of this same great one thing I 



THE ONE IDEA. 



25 



Paul made tents, and I doubt not was the most indus- 
trious and faithful artisan in Corinth, and that his work- 
manship was in great demand in the Corinthian market- 
places. For his religion was the great inspiration of his 
life, passing beyond sanctuaries and Sabbaths, and per- 
vading the whole economy of the secular and the social, 
rendering him not merely a flaming apostle, but in every 
possible relation of life an earnest and honest man. 
Paul wrought for his daily bread in the workshop of 
Aquila. But his craft was part of his Christianity. " Ho- 
liness to the Lord" was inscribed on the tent-shop ! 
" These are Christ's " was written on every tool of his 
bench, and the cord, and the canvas. And when most 
busy at his work he was still doing his one thing, adding 
gems to his crown of righteousness — pressing toward 
heaven ! 

Paul, too, preached the Gospel ; and never since hath 
human voice been lifted in such resistless eloquence to 
save imperiled souls. But then his pulpit, like his tent- 
shop, was in his own way to glory. He preached as he 
ran, like Bunyan's Pilgrim, his back to the multitude, his 
face toward heaven. The Gospel he preached was a Gos- 
pel he practiced. The cross he gloried in was a cross he 
carried. And amid all his unwearying toil for others, his 
most earnest care was " to keep his own body imder, that 
he himself should not be at last a castaway /" Heaven — 
heaven — as a great city of radiant pinnacles, seemed ever 
the great reality of his being, and, as he cast away every 
hinderance, and broke from every entanglement, and 
pressed untiringly on to its enrapturing glories, the utter- 
ance alike of his lip and his life was, "This one thing I do." 

But, as recorded in the context, even in his religious 
2 



26 



THE ONE IDEA. 



life he seems to have been doing several things. There- 
fore, let us consider how they were only essential parts 
of this one thing. 

I. And first, Paul cherished in his heart a constant 
dissatisfaction with his present spiritual attainment. 
These are his words: "Brethren, I count not myself 
to have apprehended." Here, in his own behalf, is a posi- 
tive disclaimer of all Christian perfection. High as seems 
to us his spiritual stature, he repeatedly assures us that 
to himself he seemed almost the least of saints — the 
chief of sinners. And here he expresses profound dis- 
satisfaction with his gracious attainments, and here we 
find the great secret of his rapid Christian progress. 
Tea, and here we find the secret of all progress, either 
sacred or secular. Dissatisfaction is always the first 
step in improvement. Dissatisfied with the pen, man in- 
vented the printing-press. Dissatisfied with the chariot, 
man careers on the locomotive. Dissatisfied with the 
velocity even of steam, man links his thoughts to God's 
thunderbolts ! This, in regard of all things, is the true 
inspiration. A being fully contented with present at- 
tainments, with no aspirations unto things above and 
beyond him, should be either a god or an idiot ! Heav- 
en's pity on the poor soul on this earth all restful and 
satisfied ! Genius — high genius — the most Godlike of in- 
tellectual gifts, is only this restless creative agony, an 
impulse driving the spirit to beat its wings like an impris- 
oned eagle, till there be blood on the plumes and the 
wires of the prison-house ! forcing the yearning heart 
abroad, like an unblessed spirit, away from the actual 
in search of the possible ; to dig in every desert for a 
living spring ; to climb every mountain-top for a farther 



TEE ONE IDEA. 



27 



look into heaven. Csesar was the very demi-god of his 
generation, because a possessed world could not satisfy 
him. Paul was the very chief of the apostles, because, 
sick of all present attainments, he " counted himself not 
to have apprehended" Meanwhile, 

II. Paul fastened his eye on farther and loftier Chris- 
tian states and attainments, " forgetting the things that 
are behind, and reaching forth unto the things that are 
before /" 

There are men, alas, how many ! in their self-examina- 
tions, always either reviewing the past, or scrutinizing 
the present, of their gracious experience. Ask them for 
the evidences of regeneration, and they tell you how, 
years ago, they found peace in believing, or that even 
now they feel happy in Christ. But Paul's eye and 
thouo-ht fastened neither on the things behind, nor the 
things around him. Not of the glorious light in the way 
to Damascus, not of the manifold labors of his apostle- 
ship, does he speak. Far away, at the end of his course, 
stood the great " Finisher of his faith," and to him alone 
he looked. Far away from his low stand-point stretched, 
in ever-ascending grandeur, peak upon peak, the mountain 
ranges of godliness, and he reached forward, like an iron- 
shod pilgrim, all eager to climb. And herein was an- 
other secret of his progress, and of all progress. This 
yearning ambition within the soul of man, which, goad- 
ing him away from all heights of present attainment, 
fastens the eye on vaster acquisitions of knowledge, 
nobler forms of love, and hope, and joy, and faith — filling 
the whole future with a perspective of grander prizes to 
be struggled for, and filling the soul, which no present 
gladness can satisfy, with those restless and irrepressible 



28 



TEE ONE IDEA. 



desires for the glories that are far away and beyond 
it. 

Paul was dissatisfied with the present, and intensely 
ambitious for great things in the future. Meanwhile, 

III. His ambition was pre-eminently practical. These 
gracious desires became the inspiration of his life. Reli- 
gion in him was no frame and feeling of ecstasy and rap- 
ture. It was sinewed with steel — sandaled with iron. The 
New Jerusalem, with its flashing pinnacles, was no city 
in the clouds, which a child sees at sunset in the purpling 
west, and lies down to dream about. It was a city with 
foundations, coming out to the eye of faith at the termi- 
nus of his life-walk; and as its ever-haunting splendors fell 
round him, he tightened the girdle of his loins, the latchet 
of his sandals, and, like an earnest and strong man, pressed 
toward the goal. " I press — I press toward the mark for 
the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." 
" This one thing I do." Relying entirely on Christ, as 
he did, for salvation, yet he felt that he had for himself 
a great work to do in this progress toward glory. It 
was a practical progress in every Christian grace; and 
those graces, miraculously implanted at regeneration, 
follow afterward the law of all life, and thrive only with ' 
culture. While God's power wrought inwardly " to will 
and to do," his own power must work outwardly, " with 
fear and trembling." Christ Jesus would no more relieve 
him of all spiritual than of all secular labor; no more 
run the Christian race for him than make tents for him. 
So Paul felt : " I — I press toward the prize of the high 
calling in Christ." "This one thing I do !" 

The accomplishment of salvation was a work — yea, 
was his work. His theory of religion was not that of a 



THE OJS r E IDEA. 



29 



glad voyage over tranquil waters, down stream and rest- 
ful, lulled by murmuring wind and wave, until, anchored 
for eternity, lie should go ashore in glory ! To him it 
seemed a race-course, in which every step of progress 
must be a labor — the limb strained, the eye steadfast. 
Though resting, as the everlasting rock of his hope, on 
the truth of God's sovereignty, yet he would trust to no 
Divine purpose to bring him at last, safely sleeping, to 
glory. The wearer of the crown must be winner of the 
crown. The racer who triumphed must be the racer 
Avho toiled. To attain to the sanctified state passively, 
by meditations and raptures, or even by a miraculous de- 
struction of sin in the members, in answer to prayer ! to 
attain to entire sanctification, save by bringing the body 
under in a life of active labor for Christ — a labor life- 
long and intense as the racer's struggling toward the 
goal ! Why, Paul would as soon have expected to have 
ascended in a silken balloon to the radiant heights of 
the City of Holiness ! Christian life to him was a toil — 
the concentration of all the powers of his ardent and 
regenerated nature in one mighty struggle ; and quiver- „ 
ing lip, and strained limb, and steadfast and earnest life, 
gave utterance to the same motto and watch-word of his 
life— "This one thing I do!" 

And thus all the several things Paul is said to do in the 
context, are but essential parts of the same great " one 
thing " — " Toward the prize of the high calling of God 
he pressed," i. e., "He made progress toward heaven!" 

And a wise man he was, surely, in this choice of the 
great end of his being. Many another thing he might 
have done nobly. In him were combined, in wonderful 
strength, the mental and moral qualities fitting man for 



30 



THE OXE IDEA. 



great deeds. His was the temperament which produces 
heroes. His, intellectually, the strong logical faculty, 
and the splendid imagination characterizing great orators. 
His, every way, the resistless, indomitable energy, render- 
ing human life a success. He might have rivaled De- 
mosthenes in the pomp of his eloquence ! He might have 
flung abroad banners of battle glorious as Caesar's ! 
But bring him back now from the skies, in the glory of 
his white robe, and sceptre, and diadem, and bid him de- 
clare frankly whether it was done well and wisely, this 
doing but one thing ! 

Ah me ! The tongue of the old orator is silent, and 
the laurels of the great conqueror are withered and dead. 
But brightening ever in its glory as eternity wears on, 
new laurels in the chaplet, new gems in the crown, new 
anthems to be sung, new heights to be soared — the prize 
of that high calling in Christ Jesus flashes lustrously 
still ! 

Wise ? — wise ? Yes, he was wise. He went forth like 
an old athlete to the great race-course for glory, and for a 
* while, calmly watching the girded runners, he counted the 
cost and the toil. And then did 4 this poor world do its 
best to beguile him from the struggle. Pleasure smiled 
on him in her wondrous beauty, and whispered her incan- 
tations. And Honor waved an enchanter's wand, and to 
his wrapt eye rose a far perspective of unbounded earthly 
splendor. And Riches, and Power, and the Lusts of the 
flesh, and the Pride of life, wro tight upon his heart with 
spells almost omnipotent. Yes ; and then in the con- 
trast, such labors, and sacrifices, and sufferings, even 
unto death, were to be endured for the Master. And 
the narrow way upward to the skies looked so cold, and 



THE ONE IDEA. 



31 



thorny, and desolate, that, it may be, for a little moment, 
the heart of the persecutor faltered ere he tightened the 
girdle of his garment and sprang toward the goal ! But 
it was only for a moment ! Right out from the blue 
heavens, as they bent over the far heights of the course, 
flashed to his eye of faith the light from the towers of 
the City of Holiness, and down from their shining seats 
stole the voices, so soft, of that " great cloud of witnesses." 
And it was enough ! As cords from the limbs of the 
roused Samson, the poor entanglements of earth fell from 
his spirit. Away ! away he is bounding ! Make way 
for him, ye weaker runners ! A giant hath sprung to 
the race, and is pressing toward glory ! And will he 
falter now on the course ? Can the world tempt him to 
falter? Gold, pleasure, honor — can they hinder his swift 
feet ? Paul pause ! . Paul falter ! With Heaven open- 
ing on his full soul, and Death and Hell following hard 
after, and the cloud of witnesses surrounding, and the 
ground under his feet sounding hollow, and stupendous 
visions of eternal gloom and eternal glory breaking 
round him, will he pause for mortal toys? 

Ah, no, no ! As well tempt an angel from his throne 
with a babe's poor plaything. " This one thing only he 
would do /" 

And methought I saw him at last, as the race was 
ended and the crown was won. Like the angel standing 
in the sun, he stood colossal in. outline at the radiant 
goal ! There was a halo round his head, and uncreated 
glories fell on him as a garment ! Then there seemed a 
flash, as of gates of pearl moving to soft music, and the 
outburst of seraphic voices in joyous welcome ! And, 
alas for me ! I felt homesick for glory as I saw him no 



32 



THE ONE IDEA. 



more. His race for glory ended! Mis one thing 
done! 

Xow, of all this simple discourse, the one practical 
lesson is to take Paul for our model. We, too, have but 
one thing to do on this earth — to get ready for heaven. 
In every scene and sphere of the secular and social, " to 
be diligent in business, fervent in spirit, serving the 
Lord." And spite of all our fond notions, there is no 
easier or other way than Paul's of progress in sanctinca- 
tion ; and yet how little are we like him. Alas, my 
brethren, if we toiled as listlessly for this world as for 
heaven, the merchant would become bankrupt on ex- 
change, and the artisan a beggar by the wayside. A 
child, weaving for himself a chaplet of flowers, toils in 
their gathering more earnestly than we in setting stars 
in our crown of rejoicing. And do you think that God, 
whose law of compensation is to make every good thing 
the meed of earnest toil and a steadfast purpose, so that 
the bee and the ant must starve if they work not, — do 
you think that God, who brought prophets and apostles 
to heaven through struggles and conflicts, and a great 
fight of afflictions, will lower down the standard in our 
behalf, and award us a crown of glory if we strain not 
toward the goal ? Why, look ye ! — Far away over the 
desert, up where the mountains are piercing the skies, 
shine the palaces of immortality ! And if we attain to 
them in triumph at all, these deserts must be traversed, 
these stormy waters crossed, these mountains ascended ! 
" This high calling of God in Christ Jesus " is not unto 
passive and indolent raptures, but unto earnest warfare 
and work. A Christian is a "servant" and he must 
labor; a "pilgrim" and he must journey; a" soldier ," 



TEE ONE IDEA, 



33 



and he must do battle; a "racer" for glory, and he 
must press toward the goal. " This one thing ice must 
* do?' 

And I call on you and on myself, as immortal spirits, 
girt about for the struggle, under whose feet the earth is 
hollow with sepulchres — around whom, filling all the 
sky, press unseen this great cloud of witnesses ; in whose 
far perspective are magnificent things which would 
kindle, as a guerdon, all the energies of the archangel. 
Knowing, as I do, how heaven is attained only by 
struggling, and how, amid the different rewards of 
eternity, the loftiest are only unto the most earnest, 
and how God hath filled the human soul with these 
boundless and irrepressible desires, just that it might 
fix heart and eye on the loftiest of the thrones, the 
brightest of the diadems — ay, and knowing, too, how 
the season of the great life-work is growing short, 
the sands of the great hour-glass falling through, the 
shadows lengthening, the sun going down, the night — 
the night coming ! — knowing this, I call on you and on 
myself to gird up the loins and tighten the sandal, " and 
press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling 
of God!" 

And unto you, oh, ye impenitent and ungodly men, 
what shall I say ? Alas, this one thing which gathers 
into itself all the great interests of time and eternity — 
a thing too immense to ' be done well in a life-time — 
Paul's grand "one thing" — ye have not yet begun to 
do. Ye will not even think about doing. Your lan- 
guage to your preacher is — " Oh, do not talk about this 
thing ! Do not speak about Death, and the Judgment, 
and Eternity I By and by, when life hath lost all its 
2* 



34 



TEE ONE IDEA. 



sparkle, and pleasure palls upon the senses, and the 
world fades away as a fair vision, then we mean to be 
Christians." Alas, foolish reasoners ! Where is eternity ? * 
afar off? long years away in your history? Oh, no ! 
Eternity is close to you — all around you — just behind 
this thin veil of things visible, already lifting, dissolving. 
Be a Christian by and by ! Alas, foolish reasoner ! 
What is it to be a Christian ? Is it to weep a tear — 
experience a remorse — breathe a prayer on a death-bed ? 
Oh, no, no ! To be a Christian is to run a great race — to 
fight a mighty battle. And how can a man fight well 
when his right arm is palsied, and his eye dim in death ? 
And who ever heard of an athlete coming forth from a 
dying chamber, and wrapt in a shroud, that he might 
strive for the mastery ? Oh, no ! It requires all the 
best strength of the bravest manhood to do well Paul's 
one thing ! And so, as one that loves your souls, I plead 
that here and now ye begin this great life-work. Know- 
ing how this one thing is a good thing, and a blessed, 
and a needful, how much fairer will seem even this 
mortal life, if you have God for your father. And how 
much, when the shadows are upon all its sunshine, every 
cloud will be haloed with heavenly light in the smile of 
the Comforter! and how even the cold waters of death 
will seem bright as the sea of glass mingled with fire, if 
the Divine Son come walking the billows ! and how, 
beyond it, heaven will fling open its shining gate, and 
you enter " to that glory, that weight of glory, that far 
more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.'''' 

And that even then ye shall have but begun the 
higher life of the immortal; that when eternal ages 
have rolled on their great course, still " things to come " 



THE ONE IDEA. 



35 



will be yours — still new treasures of knowledge, and 
love, and joy, opening in your experience — new anthems 
to be sung — new heights to be soared — tower above 
tower — battlement above battlement — throne above 
throne — still stretching away upward under that glo- 
rious firmament, till lost in the immensities of the God- 
head ! Knowing all this, I plead with you, that for one 
passing hour you consider your immortality ! for then I 
know that with this poor world seeming a vapor, and life 
a dream, and eternity a stupendous reality — you, too, 
will gird yourselves for this life-work, and press as a 
giant on a high path, with these apostolic and exalting 
words: — This one thing I do! This oxe thing I do ! 



PREJUDICE. 



" And Nathaniel said, Can any good thing come out of Nazareth ? 
Philip saith unto him, Come and see." — John, i. 46. 

The conversation here recorded occurred at the begin- 
ning of our Lord's ministry. Philip, a disciple of John 
the Baptist, having found the Christ, in the fullness of his 
joy would lead others unto him. And finding Nathaniel, 
an upright, though bigoted Israelite, thus earnestly ad- 
dressed him, " We have found him of whom Moses in 
the law and the prophets did write, Jesus of Nazareth 
the son of Joseph." But in reply, the prejudice of the 
Hebrew was painfully manifest. " Of Nazareth do you 
say ?" — " Can any good thing come out of Nazareth ?" It 
is difficult to determine the precise point of the question 
as here put by Nathaniel. The words " any good thing " 
may have here as elsewhere the force of "this good 
thing," meaning the promised Messiah, the " summum 
bonum " of the Jew. And if so, the implied objection of 
the question lay in this — that Bethlehem, and not Naz- 
areth, was to be the birthplace of the Christ. And this 
was just the objection, afterward so popular among the 
Jews : " Shall the Christ come out of Galilee. Hath 
not the Scripture said that he cometh of the seed of 
David, and out of the town of Bethlehem?" But as the 
text, is here rendered, the objection lay in this — that 
Nazareth, a town of lower Galilee, had become pro- 



PRE J UDIGE. 



37 



verbial for the wickedness of its inhabitants, and that 
therefore no good man could be supposed to come out 
of it. 

But, for the practical instruction of the text, it matters 
not which of these meanings be received. For they 
alike exhibit the evil influence of prejudice on our intel- 
lectual decisions. 

If the first interpretation be taken, then the power of 
Nathaniel's prejudice showed itself in his logic. He 
heard Philip call Christ a Nazarene, and therefore 
rejected him, because the prophecy was that Christ 
should come out of Bethlehem. As if these two things 
were incompatible ; both of which the simplest inquiry 
would have proved true :- that Christ was born in 
Bethlehem, and dwelt afterward in Nazareth. 

Or if the last interpretation be taken, then the power 
of the prejudice showed itself in his philosophy, by 
an unjust generalization, concluding that no Nazarene 
could be good because some Nazarenes were evil. 

We say, then, this question of Nathaniel finely illus- 
trates — the direful power of prejudice! And the imme- 
diate response of Philip as finely exhibits — the real 
remedy for prejudice. 

What answer does he give to this bigot of Israel? 
Does he sit down to reason the matter, proving, by the 
terrible record of Herod's slaughter of the innocents, 
that, though resident in Nazareth, Christ was born in 
Bethlehem ? Or that while some wicked men had their 
home in Nazareth, yet its very existence under Roman 
rule was proof that many good citizens dwelt there? 
Does he pause to reason with him at all ? No, indeed ! 
At once, with a truer love and finer logic, he leads him 



38 



PREJUDICE. 



directly to the presence of the prejudged Bethlebemite, 
saying — " Come and see." 

• Our text, then, teaches us most impressively — TJie evil 
and remedy of prejudice. 

Now, had we the limits we would consider these in a 
general application. 

There is nothing more common, and few things worse, 
than prejudice. By it we mean any opinion formed with- 
out sufficient examination of facts and arguments. And 
its effect upon the mind is like that of colored glass upon 
the eye, arraying objects in aspects unnatural and mon- 
strous. Its injurious influence pervades all spheres of 
human life — social, civil, religious. Sometimes it judges 
a whole community from the character of a particular 
member, and sometimes the individual from the character 
of- the community. The man is of a party whose prin- 
ciples we do not accept, and therefore we think him 
unworthy of confidence. Or he is of a religious sect 
which we deem widely erroneous, and therefore we re- 
gard him ignorant of true piety. Or some individual of 
the party has proved himself unprincipled, and therefore 
we pronounce the whole party dishonest. Or some mem- 
ber of a religious sect has been manifestly a hypocrite, 
and therefore the whole sect is included in iniquity. 

Or sometimes, in regard of systems, or individuals, we 
judge the whole character from a single act, and thus 
think the evil good because there may be one good thing 
in it — and the good, evil, because it has one fault. 

And surely all this is monstrous. In the present system 
of things, made up of good and evil, prejudgments are 
almost necessarily wrong judgments. Prejudice is a 
great injustice. And its cure is, as in the case of Na- 



PREJUDICE. 



39 



thaniel, a thorough examination of its object — to turn 
away from the partial logic, and " come and see " — come 
and look at the nation in all its great emporiums and 
refined homes, before, from one coarse and brutal tourist, 
you pronounce it half-civilized ! 

Come, study the whole platform, and all the measures 
of the party, ere, because of one unprincipled demagogue, 
you judge it all evil. Come look at the religious sect in 
all its broad charities, and earnest faith and love, ere, 
from one hypocritical member, you pronounce it a fanati- 
cism. Come, examine the system in the whole reach and 
play of its complicate machinery, ere from a single disas- 
ter you condemn it altogether. 

Come, look upon the erring and sinful man, in all the 
circumstances of his temptation — yea, come look on him 
after he has sinned, — follow him to his retirement. See 
how his eyes overflow, how his heart breaks, as he casts 
himself at Jehovah's feet, asking for forgiveness. Come 
and see all this ere, from one sin committed under some 
terrible temptation, you turn away from him as a hypo- 
crite. 

Alas, this principle of prejudice is itself a most terrible 
iniquity. It would impel us to cut down a precious vine, 
because of one decayed cluster — to burn up the whole 
earth, because some wild beasts inhabit it — to annihilate 
all God's universe in its goodness and glory, because there 
are comets amid its stars, and demons among its spirits. 
And its remedy is simple : Go examine all matters of pre- 
judice carefully, ingenuously, holding opinion in abey- 
ance until evidence is thoroughly sifted, and whatever 
may seem a priori plausible or presumptive — " Come 
and see " — " Come and see?'' 



40 



PREJUDICE. 



But it is not with such generalities we are at present 
concerned. On this holy day and in this holy presence 
we can have only to do with Prejudices against Christi- 
anity. Such were Nathaniel's, and his case affords a fine 
illustration of the folly and wrong of all such prejudices. 
Consider it carefully. 

I. If you suppose his objections to Christ arose from the 
fact that the Messiah must be born in Bethlehem, while 
Philip says this man had come from Nazareth. Then 
alas for his logic ! All Jewish prophecy pointed to that 
day as the time for Christ's coming ; so that all men 
were expecting it. Yea, his predicted forerunner had 
already appeared and proclaimed his advent. And 
there, before the assembled multitudes that went out unto 
John's baptism, a great voice out of heaven, and a de- 
scending Theophany declared him to be the expected 
Messiah. Yea, mortal man had resorted unto him, and 
as they heard his blessed words, and saw his mighty 
works, cast themselves adoringly at his feet, and came 
forth to declare in confidence and rapture, " We have 
found him of whom Moses and the prophets did write." 
And what has this bigoted Hebrew to oppose to all this ? 
Alas, nothing but a name taken from a temporary dwell- 
ing-place ! " Ah ! a Nazarene did you say. And do you 
think this on-eat srood can come out of Nazareth ?" 
"Shall Christ come out of Galilee? Cometh he not 
from Bethlehem of David ?" 

And verily, I can not conceive of any finer parallel 
than this affords to the present popular arguments 
against Christianity. 

The Bible comes to man with an amount of evidence 
as great as, in consistence with min's probationary state 



PREJUDICE. 



41 



Divine wisdom can give it, the evidence of prophecy, 
the evidence of miracles, the evidence of its own inherent 
divinity, and the evidence of its mighty beneficent in- 
fluences. » 

Is the Bible an inspired book? Is Christianity a 
divine revelation ? This is the question. And hark ! 
how the universe lifts all voices in attestation. " Yes," 
cry all material things. For so wonderfully are nature and 
revelation in analogy, so manifestly counterparts in one 
great system, autographs of the same Divine hand, that 
a child's wisdom accords them the same common Au- 
thor ! " Yes," cries prophecy, pointing to manifold ever 
fulfilling and fulfilled predictions ! " Yes," cries the 
yearning soul of man, " for its blessed truths just befit my 
wants, it instructs my ignorance, it reveals my immor- 
tality, it purifies my nature, it dries my tears, it woos 
me from the trifles of time, and wings me for the grand- 
eurs of eternity ! " Yes," cry supernatural voices. And 
behold ! stilled seas, and healed diseases, and the risen 
dead, and revealed angels appear as its witnesses. 
" Yes," cry the living nations of the earth, quickened by 
its divine power into life and liberty and joy, "advan- 
taged every way by the possession of these oracles of 
God !" " Yes," cry all higher orders of immortal life — 
angel and archangel, principality and power, singing 
morning star and shouting Son of God ! " Yes," cries 
God the Father, so guarding it by his Providence. 
"Yes," cries God the Son, so magnifying it by his 
miracles. "Yes," cries God the Holy Ghost, attending 
it ever in omnipotence from conquering to conquer, 
until verily there is no true voice in God's universe 
that gives not glad testimony in behalf of our faith ! 



42 



PREJUDICE. 



And unto all this, what says the Infidel ? Alas, like 
Nathaniel by the Jordan, he sets it all aside with a pitiful 
eavil ! He gets him a glass and looks heavenward, and 
finding that the sun and^stars do not actually revolve 
around the earth, looks wise, and says, "Aha, Moses 
does not say any thing about this law of gravitation, 
surely he was not an inspired man !" He explores the 
strata of the earth, and finding a fish's tail in the rock 
or a monster's vertebrse in sandstone, lays his hand 
solemnly on his heart, saying, "Moses speaks not of these 
old fossils. Really this is a tremendous fact against reve- 
lation." 

He draws a line from ear to nostril on an Ethiop's 
face, or pulls a lock of hair from an Ethiop's skull, and, 
wise with all ethnologic gifts and grace, cries, " Ah, me, 
how many facts there are against revelation !" He runs 
the line of his reason into the sphere of immensity and 
eternity ; or flings himself from the rock of faith into 
the infinite ocean of Godhead, and, finding himself 
slightly beyond his depth, struggles back, half-drowned 
but still buoyant in his self-conceit, and because the 
revelations of God are too large for his logic, would 
settle the question with portentous deliverance — " Verily 
I can not comprehend all this, and my arithmetic and 
logic are both against revelation !" 

Now, before God, this is not caricature. It is a fair 
representation of infidel objections to Christianity. And 
I ask if Nathaniel's against Christ had a greater seeming 
of prejudice? "Can the Christ come out of Nazareth, 
cometh he not of the seed of David, and out of the 
town of Bethlehem ?" Alas, foolish Israelite ! Why, 
there is not a matronly mother in all the coasts of Beth- 



PREJUDICE. 



43 



lehem, that can not lead you to the grave of her 
slaughtered babe, and prove to you by death's dread tes- 
timony, that your objection is a poor cavil, — that this 
very Jesus of Nazareth was born in Bethlehem. 

And we say as well : Alas, foolish sceptic ! Why 
there is not one of your sophisms against Christianity 
which has not been answered so often that a Sunday- 
school child can meet you for our God, and shame you, 
if you have shame, of this pitiful dishonesty. 

But you do not need argument. Your infidelity is of 
the heart ! The poor creature of prejudice! You cavil 
at what you know not ! What you want is an honest 
acquaintance with the Bible and Christianity ! And our 
only answer to your cavils is that of Philip to Nathaniel, 
" Come and see " — " Come and see." 

Come as a creature of a glorious nature, feeling within 
you immortal wants, and immortal aspirations. And 
putting your shoes off, and bowing down your proud 
head and heart, stand reverently in the presence of this 
Book from eternity. Come and see, how God's provi- 
dence guards it — how God's blessing attends it — how 
God's great thoughts fill it ! Come ponder its stupen- 
dous truths, beyond the imagination of angels ! Come 
adore its heavenly purity, and share its heavenly conso- 
lation ! Come away from your poor school of unbelief 
into fellowship with its living actors ! Come walk with 
Abraham as he walked with God ! Come mount with 
Elijah in his chariot of fire ! Come stand with Moses 
on the mount of God ! Come sit with Isaiah while 
he sweeps his harp ! Come stand with John in his desert 
isle ! 

Come enter it as a great temple of truth. See how it 



44 



PREJUDICE. 



seems a divine dwelling ! — a house not made with hands. 
What a new world of softness, brightness, grandeur, 
bursts upon the soul. What glorious pillars and arches of 
truth ! What pictures of heavenly beauty ! What light 
of ever-burning lamps ! What heavenly fragrance ! 
What seraphic voices in the enchanted air ! How man 
stands dwarfed, humbled. And all the seen, the present, 
the temporal, seems belittled, passed away, forgotten in 
the symbolic presence of eternity and God ! 

Come and see it in the glory of its influences, — in the 
power of its mission over a ruined world ! Plow chains 
are broken, and tears dried, and wrongs redressed, and 
homes made beautiful, and hearts made pure, and intel- 
lect winged for its highest soarings, and the whole man 
lifted from degradation to his true dignity, to stand in the 
midst of a redeemed world, in the glorious freedom 
which the truth makes free — in the immortal manhood 
which the truth makes man ! Oh, lay aside for an hour 
all these prejudices, and that you may understand the 
Bible as it is — and Christianity as it is — and feel your 
whole nature purified, and elevated, and blessed by a 
heavenly fellowship. " Come and see /" — " Come and 
see!" 

II. But we have said, this question may have arisen, 
not from any false reasoning in regard to Christ's birth, 
but from a popular notion of the wickedness of the 
!N~a*zarenes. 

Galilee, lying on the boundaries of Gentile nations, was ' 
partly inhabited by pagans. And Nazareth, situate in 
a secluded valley west of Mount Tabor, was the resort 
of the worthless characters of the province. And, 
hence, may have arisen this prejudice against Jesus. 



PREJUDICE. 



45 



If so, alas for Nathaniel's philosophy ! Yielding with- 
out examination to the power of popular misrepresenta- 
tion, observe the pitiful character of the objection. Pre- 
dicted by prophecy, approved by miracle, announced 
by a heavenly harbinger — yea, even by the descending 
Theophany, and a divine voice from heaven positively 
declared to be the Messiah, Christ Jesus, abode by the 
Jordan, and yet, without even the pretense of an argu- 
ment, Nathaniel would reject him with the pitiful sneer 
of the Jewish rabbi. " Ah ! a Nazarene, do you say ; 
and can any good thing come out of Nazareth?" And 
how exactly does this illustrate the treatment Chris- 
tianity receives from the multitude. 

We have seen the weakness of the argument of the 
speculative unbeliever. But in this case of the practical 
rejecter there is no pretense of argument. The whole 
thing rests upon an irrational prejudice. 

Christianity comes to man as a momentous message 
from eternity, revealing overwhelming truths, involving 
everlasting interests. It tells him of immortality, of 
retribution, of a judgment to come, of a state of endless 
despair, and a world of divine glory. It proclaims sal- 
vation, by sacrifice, and opens to the believing soul the 
gates of the city and kingdom of God. It does all this 
with an authority as awful as Jehovah's. It comes with 
credentials, supernatural and overwhelming. It stands 
before men like a crowned creature of eternity, the eyes 
flashing, the robe radiant, the voice like an angel's. At 
its bidding, seas are stilled, diseases healed, the heavens 
darkened at midday, the graves are opened, and the 
dead arise. It appeals to the human spirit by motives 
of overwhelming power, urging, beseeching, command- 



46 



PREJUDICE. 



ing, the imperiled men to give instant heed to the great 
things of salvation, until verily the apostolic rhetoric is 
realized. " An embassador from God stands on this 
revolted world, as if God himself did beseech in Chrisfs 
stead, beseeching impenitent men to be reconciled to 
God!" 

But unto all this what says the thoughtless immortal ? 
Alas, like Nathaniel, he rejects the truth with a pitiful 
cant of prejudice ! He says, " Oh ! the Bible is so full 
of mysteries" As if there were nothing in it beautifully 
comprehensible ! As if a revelation without mysteries 
were not a heaven without stars. As if a poor outcast 
would not accept the heirship of a kingdom, because 
he understood not the mysterious crystallization of its' 
crown-gems ! 

Or, he says, " Oh, there are so giany different sects and 
denominations of Christians /" As if the different flow- 
ers of the field were an argument against summer, or 
the many stars of heaven were inconsistent with the 
truths of astronomy ; as if a famishing garrison in a be- 
sieged fortress would not accept deliverance at the hands 
of a conquering host, because divided into battalions and 
bearing various banners ! Or he says, " Oh, there are so 
many hypocrites in the Church /" As if one erratic 
comet in the sky destroyed all the glories of the firma- 
ment. Or he says, " Oh, religion is such a gloomy sub- 
ject." As if it could be sorrowful to have heaven for a 
home, and God for a father ! As if a poor captive in a 
deep dark dungeon, would recoil from the broad, bright, 
free world of summer and sunshine ! 

I need not pursue the thought. These, and such as 
these, are the pleas urged every day against the claims 



PREJUDICE. 



47 



of the Gospel. And I ask again, if Nathaniel's objection 
to Christ was more manifestly a mere prejudice? 

" Can any good thing come out of Nazareth ?" Alas, 
foolish Israelite, " Come and see ! Come and see !" 
Come and see the descending dove ! Come hear God's 
loud voice out of heaven ! Come sit at Jesus' feet, and 
listen to his adorable and heavenly words ! 

Nay, rather, alas, foolish unbeliever! for your cavils 
are as unfounded and fouler. Prejudiced against Christ 
and his glorious Gospel ! Then it is because you have 
not studied them, nor known them. 

Prejudiced against the Christ, the Saviour of sinners, 
the Son of God ! " Come and see." Come back into 
eternity, before the world was ! Behold ! there is no 
time, no material universe, no spiritual universe, no sun 
shining, no angel singing ! But yet no infinite void ; 
but an infinite fullness. Behold this Son of God there ! 
"For the Word teas with God/" Look again. The uni- 
verse is to be created ; sun and stars ; thrones and 
dominion ; angel and archangel. At an Omnific word 
they spring into being ! And who created them ? This 
Son of God again — for " The Word was God." Behold 
again. There is apostasy in that universe. One poor 
planet breaks from its moral moorings, and sweeps out- 
ward-bound into darkness ! It must be saved ! How ? 
Tell us, all ye angels ! Ye can not ! " Come and see," 
Upon the face of that imperiled world appears a Being 
from Eternity ! " one traveling in the greatness of his 
strength, mighty to save." This Son of God again. 11 For 
the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, and we 
beheld his glory, the glory of the only -begotten of the 
Father, full of grace and truth." Mighty to save ! But 



48 



PREJUDICE. 



how ? Oh, by sacrifice — by suffering — bearing our sins for 
us ! " Come and see !" Behold a feeble babe in a man- 
ger ! a man forlorn and tempted in the wilderness ! And 
now in the gloomy garden his sweat as great drops of 
blood in that ineffable agony ! And now on that cross — 
that dread mount of expiation ! And all this that the 
world might be saved ; that you might be saved ! 
" Come and see !" Ah me ! what love ! Beyond thought, 
beyond degree ! " Herein is love." Any good thing 
out of Nazareth ? — " Come and see /" — " Come and 
seer 

Or, if you are of those who pretend to admire the 
Christ, yet personally reject his Gospel, as a worthless 
thing, then come and look at Christianity as working 
out man's happiness ! 

Surely, while he dwelt with men on the earth, Christ's 
ministry was blessed ! Come and see — That multitude fed 
in the wilderness ! That stormy sea of Galilee calmed 
into stillness as his divine feet walked it ! That funeral 
' train at the gate of Nain ! stopped by a glorious form, 
and the beloved son pressed again to the mother's joyous 
heart. Surely, all this was blessed ! And yet this but 
imperfectly emblemizes the goodness unto the believer 
of Christ's spiritual consolations. 

" Any thing good out of Nazareth ?" " Come and 
see." 

Take me by the hand, and walk through the streets 
of your city. Come into this poor court — into this for- 
lorn chamber ! Behold this sick old man, lying on his 
hard pallet ; by his side a crust of bread, a cup of cold 
water. Alas, he was comfortable once ! — a wife who 
loved him, children who honored him! But they have 



PREJUDICE. 



49 



gone to the grave, and he seems forlorn and friendless ! 
But what is he doing ? Reading his Bible ! And when 
I say, " My old friend, this is hard for you !" his response 
is, " Hard ! oh, no ; I do not suffer as my Saviour suffered. 
I was just reading it: 'The foxes have holes, and the 
birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man hath not 
where to lay his head.'' Oh, Jesus suffered every thing 
for me ; can not I suffer any thing for Jesus ? Oh, I 
have this blessed Bible, and whenever I open it, it is as 
if a shining angel talked to me out of heaven. My poor 
chamber seems heaven's gate, and I am happy — so 
happy !" Yes, matchless comforting of the Redeemer. 
" Come and see'''' — " Come and see." 

Behold, again, in yonder dwelling, a young mother 
sits watching by the coffin of her first-born child ! See, 
her cheek is stained with tears ! She has been pressing 
her lip to that cold forehead, and twining her fingers in 
that silken hair ! Alas ! who knoweth the power of a 
bereaved mother's sorrow ? Her child will never smile 
on her again ! — never say, " Mother," " mother," again. 
And who can comfort her ? Who ? Why, Christ has 
comforted her. Hark to her words : " Oh, he said it, my 
gracious Saviour said it — ' Suffer little children to come 
unto me, and forbid them not ; for of such is the king- 
dom of heaven P Yes, my babe has gone to heaven; 
my lamb is in the Shepherd's bosom ! There, in the pas- 
tures so green, by the waters so tranquil." Oh, precious 
Gospel-comforting. " Come and see " — " Come and see." 

Behold, again ! A home of sorrowing love — a fair 
young girl passing away in agony, surrounded by all 
that can make life blessed ; the idol of parents, and sis- 
ters, and adoring friends; like a bird pierced by the 

3 



50 



PREJUDICE, 



archer's arrow, just as, with joyous wings and song, it 
was mounting to the morning sun. So in the freshness 
of life and love and joy, hath the destroyer's breath 
fallen on its, beautiful victim. Alas, alas ! She to die, in 
the gladness of her youth, in the glory of her promise ! 
She to turn aside from the green earth, and laughing- 
sky, and lie down with the winding-sheet and the worm 
in the dark, pitiless sepulchre ! How can she bear it ? 
How can she be comforted ? How ? " Come and see." 
See how her eye sparkles ! Hark to her faith-inspired 
words ! " Oh, sister, father, mother, do not weep for me. 
It is sad to part from you ; but we shall meet again in 
heaven. And I am going to be with Christ, to see the 
divine glory, to walk the golden streets, to dwell in the 
many mansions. Oh, do you not see them, these shining 
ones ? And there, those gates of glory ! Oh, weep not. 
Rather sing — sing : — 

li 1 The world recedes, it disappears, 
Heaven opsns on. my eyes, my ears 

With sounds seraphic ring. 
Lend, lend your wings, I mount, I fly — 
0 grave, where is thy victory ! 

0 Death, where is thy sting!' " 

Oh, blessed comforting of Christ ! any thing good out 
of Nazareth? — " Come and see " — " Come and see." 

Oh, away with your prejudices ! This world, and 
heaven, and time, and eternity, are filled with living wit- 
nesses to the unspeakable goodness of " the truth as it is 
in Jesus." God hath not given to a poor worm, the 
power to speak fitly of such things, things unseen, un- 
heard, unutterable, which are prepared in the Gospel for 
those that love God. But if I could do it — if I could 



PREJUDICE. 



51 



show you how like visiting angels this Gospel comes to 
comfort and gladden — how it dries every tear, and 
assuages every anguish, and hangs a heavenly lamp at 
the lowliest lintel — and hushes every storm' on life's 
troubled waters, and brings angels to the death-bed, and 
makes radiant the grave ! Yea, more ! If I could tell 
you how it prepares man for immortality ! How it 
meets the soul, as it casts off the burden of the flesh, and 
clothes it in heavenly robes, and indues it with heavenly 
faculties, and bears it to heavenly places — through the 
gates of pearl, along the streets of the golden city, 
through the opening ranks of cherubim and seraphim, to 
sit down in the midst of the Throne of God — a sharer 
in Christ's triumph, as a sharer in his suffering — a 
king and a priest unto God, amid all and over all the 
high things of immensity and eternity ! 

Oh, if I could do this, then never again would you turn 
away in scorn from him who dwelt in Nazareth ! 

But this I can not do. " 'We have this treasure in 
earthen vessels ;" " we see through a glass darkly ;" we 
can but point you to evidence, and tell you of experience. 
And this, alas, is not enough. You hate the heavenly 
light because your deeds are evil. Like dazed sea-birds 
in a stormy night, you dash yourselves to death against 
the very crystal through which streams the blessed * 
light of the beacon ! A thousand times as now have 
you sat in heavenly places — here in God's house, 
heaven's very gate — heard the joyous voices — seen 
the radiant visions, and yet, gone away despising them. 
Gone away as you will to-day, with the Jew's pitiful 
question — " Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?" 
— when God's whole universe utters the gracious invita- 



52 



PREJUDICE. 



tion ; the sun and stars uttering it — the living and 
the dead uttering it — the mortal and immortal uttering it 
— angel and archangel uttering it — God the Father, and 
the Son, and the Holy Ghost uttering it — uttering it 
tenderly and terribly, gentle as the whisper of a seraph, 
and loud as the sound of many waters, — God's great call 
to his imperiled creature. " Gome and See " — " Come 
a:nt> See "' 



INSINCERE UNBELIEF. 



" At that time Herod the Tetrarch heard of the fame, of Jesus, and said 
unto his servants, This is John the Baptist, he is risen from the dead; 
and therefore mighty works do show forth themselves in him.' 1 ' 1 — Matthew, 
xiv. 1, 2. 

This text is no part of revelation. It is only the 
record of an infidel falsehood; and inspiration is con- 
cerned with it only as guiding aright the pen of the 
historian, and giving us assurance that the unbeliev- 
ing Herod certainly uttered these words. But as an 
infidel utterance it commends itself to all infidels, as 
worthy their serious regard and full of practical in- 
struction. 

They should learn here, at least, these three things : — 
Tliat practical unbelief distrusts itself disavows itself 
and punishes itself 

First. All such unbelief like Herod 's, distrusts itself 
Scepticism is never wholly satisfied with its own 
creed; never rests confidently on its own reasonings. 
So it was with Herod. As a Sadducee he rejected 
the doctrine of the Resurrection, whether of angel or 
spirit. And yet, suddenly startled from his self-pos- 
session by an alarm of conscience, he is seen in the 
text to affirm strongly the truth whose denial was 



54 



INSINCERE U 2TB E LIEF. 



fundamental to his system ! And herein is illustrated 
the usual, perhaps universal distrust of unbelief in its 
own tenets. Being at best a system of negations, it 
affords no ground of confidence. It does not even 
attempt to disprove the great truths of the Resurrection 
and Eternal Retribution, — and its denial evidently con- 
sists with an apprehension that these doctrines may 
be true. The simple fact that Infidelity, while silently 
tolerating all forms of heathenism, is ever attacking 
Christianity, is in proof that it fears its great truths. 
And the ever-recurring fact has passed into a proverb — 
that infidels are, of all men, most afraid of death, and most 
superstitious, indeed, generally. Sincere faith is serene, 
self-possessed, reliant. The traveler on the king's high- 
way walks calmly and confidently, because he feels 
that his feet are on adamant ; while he, in a marsh or 
a quicksand, is all restless and excited through his dis- 
trust of the road. This very vaporing of unbelief in 
behalf of its tenets is significant of insincerity. The 
man who says, " all men will be saved," shows by his 
eagerness for controversy that he feels not quite sure 
of it. Call it what you will, and account for it as you 
may, there is in every heart an instinct of retribution ; 
and ever and anon it conjures from the unknown future 
shadowy forms before which the heart recoils and the 
knees smite together. And quite certain I am, that I 
address no unbeliever so thoroughly persuaded of his 
infidelity that he is never appalled by a misgiving. 

The man may meet me with great swelling words 
about priestcraft and superstition, and may utter elo- 
quent declamations that the Bible is a lie, and death is 
annihilation ; yet, I know that he looks upon that Bible 



IN-SINCERE UNBELIEF. 



55 



with a fear, and passes that grave with misgivings; 
that in many an hour of solitude and silence voices of 
alarm are loud in his soul, and phantoms from eternity 
move fearfully before him ! For all unbelief is of " the 
leaven of Herod," and he stands before us in the text a 
true type of his kind. Only yesterday the haughty 
Tetrarch — that he might quiet his conscience in his ways 
of iniquity, went forth as the chieftain of Sadducean 
infidelity, loudly denying the fact, yea, even the possi- 
bility of a Resurrection. And yet, to-day, we see him 
startled out of his pretentious confidence by a story of 
Christ's miracles — practically confessing the insincerity 
of his words with pale face and trembling limbs and 
quivering lip, proclaiming — "It is John the Baptist. 
He is risen from the dead !" 

Passing this, observe, secondly — That all unbelief, 
like Herod's, not only distrusts itself, but often, and in 
the end, almost always disavows itself! 

It may clamor against the hard things of revelation, as 
opposed to its instincts and its reason ; yet, will ever 
and anon make 'practical confession that they seem not 
unreasonable. This is strikingly exhibited in this 
history of Herod. 

Confessedly among all the things in revelation, hard 
to understand, and hard to believe, this doctrine of the 
Resurrection, even by the teaching of Christ, stands 
first. It is certainly a doctrine not discoverable by 
reason. Nature has nothing to suggest, nothing, indeed, 
analogous to its marvels. The fair flower from the seed 
— the winged insect from the crysalis — these common 
illustrations of the Resurrection fail in one and the 
essential point. They were not dead, though they 



56 



INSINCERE- UNBELIEF. 



seemed so. And before they have any power in the 
argument, we must be shown some germ of vegetable 
or animal life, ground into powder, and scattered by the 
winds, unto which summer and sunshine return re- 
gathering the material, and recreating the life. 

We have indeed no controversy with those who 
maintain the mystery ; yea, the positive unnaturalness 
of this great doctrine. It is wisest to regard it as a pure 
doctrine of revelation. All we insist on, as illustrated 
by the case of Herod, is, that when once revealed it is 
reasonable to accept it. It is a marvelous truth, un- 
questionably, this truth of the Resurrection ! For six 
thousand years there has gone on this destruction of 
our species. The babe, the mother, the gray-haired 
man, have gone down in countless millions to the great 
burial ! Dust, human dust it is, and that once reddened 
in the lip and sparkled in the eye and bounded in the 
pulses, that to-day is blown about by the winds, and 
washed away by the waters, and trampled under foot 
of living men, until this fair world, rounded into 
beauty and hung amid the stars, as the blessed home 
of God's man-chiid, shows dark and appalling as his 
Golgotha and his grave ! And yet over all this ruin 
of dead generations, there is to break a life-giving 
summons : and atom shall come to its fellow atom, and 
bone to its fellow bone, and bursting the long bondage 
of the grave, they shall' come forth covering the sea, 
and covering the land, all the millions of earth's 
buried population. 

It is a great and difficult conception in regard of the 
race, nor scarcely less difficult in regard of the individual. 
The beloved one may have died and been buried by 



INSINCERE UNBELIEF. 57 



stranger-hands amid polar snows or tropic sands — or may- 
have gone down into the depth of seas, or been burned 
in fierce fires, and the ashes scattered as the dust of a 
furnace ! Nevertheless that dust shall live again ! The 
hour comes when that eye again shall flash and that 
heart bound, and just as it stood before us, face to face, 
a mysterious creature — a spirit wedded to dead matter, 
will the spoiled and conquered grave give it back to the 
ministries of another and an endless life ! 

Now these, we grant you, are strange and difficult 
conceptions. Nevertheless they are not incredible. Nay, 
they are altogether philosophic and rational when we 
are once advised that such is God's great purpose 
in regard of our race. " Why should it be thought 
incredible that God should raise the dead?" Is there 
after all any thing more wonderful in the Resurrec- 
tion than in the creation of the race ? I look around, 
and lo ! ten thousand marvelous organisms are filling 
the landscape with exulting life ! I lift my eye to the 
firmament, and behold ! its immensity is crowded with 
stupenduous architecture ! And whose are all these 
wonderful works? Who peopled all these fields of 
space ? Who kindled these great fires of the firmament ? 
Why, God — God ! And can this God then be baffled 
and over-matched by this marvel* of the Resurrection? 
Ah, no, no ! In ascribing the Resurrection alone to 
Divine Wisdom and Power the Bible brings the " hard 
thing " within the conditions of the rational, the logical. 
It is only another marvel amid the great universe of 
marvels that surround us and press upon us. And the 
reason does not rightfully reject it, nor the instinct recoil 
from it. 

3* 



53 



INSINCERE UNBELIEF. 



And I say this fact is most strikingly exhibited in the 
text. As we see Herod, a man reared in unbelief, and 
hardened in all iniquity, yet, brought face to face with 
the divine workings in the person of the Divine Son, and 
forced out of his pretentious cavils against things hard 
to be understood — asserting, as something altogether 
philosophic and probable, "This is John the Baptist — 
he is risen from the dead.'''' 

Tea, and the text's illustration on this point goes 
much further. It shows, not only that the Resurrection 
is a reasonable doctrine, but that all the Bible teaches as 
to the effects of that Resurrection upon its subjects is as 
well reasonable and philosophic. 

These teachings may be embraced in two particulars — 
the positive identity, and the greatly enlarged powers and 
faculties of the Risen Immortal. 

1st. The Bible affirms this identity. The creature 
raised from the grave is to be the same creature who 
goes down into it. Death has no power to destroy or 
alter human nature. It can not annihilate a single fac- 
ulty or function of the species. It can obliterate no 
memory. It can weaken no affection ! Have I laid a 
beloved one into the grave — a brother, a sister, a friend, 
a child ? Why then, sister, and brother, and child, and 
friend, must the grave give them back to me ! So Revela- 
tion teaches. Said our Lord to the sisters of Bethany, 
" Your brother shall rise again.'''' Xot a stranger-spirit, 
forgetful of the past, unsympathizing with the present, 
unassociated in all the future, but a man to walk all the 
great paths of immortality, bearing the same lineaments, 
the same affections, yea, the same endeared name ; still 
" a brother." 



INSINCERE UNBELIEF. 



59 



And whatever difficulties there may seem, a priori, in 
this perpetuity of these mortal affections, God is surely 
competent to their removal. And^such perpetuity falls 
in with our philosophic expectations, as we see in the 
text. Herod heard of a being walking the world whom 
he believed to have risen from the dead — to have under- 
gone all the mysterious processes of death and the Resur- 
rection. And he says, A It is " — what ? a spirit ? a phan- 
tom ? a creature unlike the mortal John whom he had 
beheaded? Oh, no. But as if the very man, with all 
his memories of sufferings and persecutions, with the 
same nature, yea, the same name, had returned as an 
avenger. He says, " It is John. It is John the Baptist. 
He is risen from the dead/" 

2d. The Bible teaches, that along toith this identity, 
the raised body shall possess powers and faculties very 
greatly enlarged. 

To the question, " How are the dead raised, and with 
what body do they come?" 

It answers, — 

" It is soionin corruption, it is raised in incorruption?'' 
It shall have in it no principle of decay, but shall go 
forth as the soul itself, immutable and immortal. 

" It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory." — ISTo 
longer a degraded organism, to be kept under dust, cru- 
cified, but of all God's visible works most beautiful and 
stately — that redeemed body as it mounts to the skies ! 

" It is sown in loeahiess, it is raised in poioer." — ~No 
longer subject to infirmity or exhaustion, but sinewed to 
walk with the angels the great paths of immortality, and 
to bear unburdened even that " far more exceeding and 
eternal weight of glory." 



60 



IXSIXCERE UNBELIEF. 



" It is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual 
body." — No longer a fetter and confinement of the in- 
dwelling spirit, but the body itself so etherealized out of 
mere natural conditions as to walk upon the waters, and 
career upon the winds, in the fashion and with the 
power of Christ's own glorious Body. 

Thus speaks God's Word of the great marvel of the 
Resurrection ; and surely in all tliis there is nothing un- 
philosophic. Natural analogies go far to illustrate it. 
We cast into the earth the unshapely seed, and it bursts 
forth a flower, radiantly beautiful. The worm dies in its 
winding-sheet, and, breaking its dark cerement, there 
springs forth, on rainbow-colored wings, a joyous wan- 
derer through the heavens ! 

We expect, almost instinctively, that, if there be a 
resurrection, its subject will become vastly more power- 
ful and glorious, when " this mortal shall have put on 
immortality. " 

Thus even did Herod, with all his pretentious unbelief. 
The living John did no miracle. His ministry on earth 
was in the manifestation of no extraordinary powers. 
And the Tetrarch looked scornfully upon his unpretend- 
ing work, and slew him, without a fear, in his prison. 
But the moment he thinks of him as the subject of the 
Resurrection, he is startled, as at the coming of one su- 
pernaturally gifted. They tell him of a mysterious visit- 
ant, walking among men in the exercise of tremendous 
miraculous powers, and his philosophic solution of the 
marvel is — " These mighty works do show forth them- 
selves in him." Why ? Because he is John the Baptist ? 
Surely not ; for the living John neither healed diseases, 
nor cast out devils. But " these mighty works do show 



IK SINGER E UNBELIEF. 



01 



themselves in him," because he is John the Baptist — 

KISEJST FROM THE DEAD ! 

We say, therefore, that herein is strikingly exhibited 
the not uncommon fact, that these men, ever clamoring 
against " the hard things of revelation, are ever making 
manifest their instinctive belief of them. Indeed, there 
is in human nature something instantly responding to 
the voices of revelation. The Bible does precisely what 
we should expect it to do, as an oracle of God. It appeals 
to a faculty of our nature (which has properly been 
termed "the spiritual, or faith-faculty), which accepts its 
truth, not logically, but as by instinctive apprehension. 

And it is by reason of this, that unlearned and weak- 
minded Christians do maintain their faith so grandly 
against all the assaults of philosophic infidelity. They 
can not argue for the truth, but they can apprehend it. 
And this natural moral sense exists originally in all men. 
The Bible never came to a human spirit that did not at 
some time respond to its felt truthfulness. The man may, 
indeed, in his love of iniquity, harden himself against its 
truths, and set himself to disprove them ; yea, lift up his 
voice loudly and confidently in their denunciation, as 
hard things, and unreasonable things, and positively ab- 
surd things, until the world regards him as a thoroughly 
confirmed and sincere unbeliever. Nevertheless, there are 
chords in that man's moral nature that, like an iEolian's 
to the winds of heaven, respond, ever and anon, to the 
influences of inspiration. And, often consciously to him- 
self, and sometimes obviously to others, his unbelief, like 
the Tetrarch's, first distrusts, and then disavows itself. 
And, if I speak to such to : day — to men who have so 
given themselves up to infidel arguments, and so com- 



62 



INSINCERE UNBELIEF. 



mitted themselves to infidel companionships, as to be 
regarded as absolutely rooted and grounded in unbelief, 
and to have never a thought of God, or a care for eter- 
nity ; yet, if they have ever read their Bibles at all, so 
that its despised truths rise sometimes in the mind, linked 
with the memory of the parent, or sister, or child, or 
friend, who died, calmly relying on God's inspired prom- 
ises, then sure I am that, under all this outward hardi- 
hood, as a living well-spring amid the tangled growths 
of a forest, faith yet keeps open a troubled fountain — 
that those wayward feet recoil at times from the terrible 
glooms, and would fain turn unto the transcendent glories 
of eternity ; and that all these truths of God's Word 
which they ridicule as absurd things and foolish, do, in 
their better moments, seem altogether probable, and ra- 
tional, and wise. For I know that all these men are of 
the type of this Tetrarch, whose rank was a very chief- 
tain of practical and speculative unbelief, and yet whose 
earnest disavowal of his own unbelief — yea, whose un- 
bribed testimony to the rationality of the very truths 
he denied, is recorded in his outcry in the text — " This 
is John the Baptist, he is risen from the dead!" 

Passing this, observe, thirdly — That all such unbelief 
like Herod's positively punishes itself. 

We have said that the Tetrarch rooted and grounded 
himself in the Sadduceeans' infidelity in order that he might 
quiet his conscience in ways of iniquity. And yet by 
that very violence done to his moral sense he was arming 
it as a terrible avenger. Having rid himself of all fear 
of God, and all principles of virtue, he gave himself 
without restraint to ail evil and cruel pleasures, and 
when, commissioned of God, John broke in upon his 



INSINCERE UNBELIEF. 



03 



ungodliness with his stern presence and awful voice, 
Herod cast him into prison and slew him. And then 
turned again to his evil courses with an exulting confi- 
dence that no other voice would ever dare to raise itself 
in his path of selfish and guilty gladness. But alas he 
did not understand then, as at the last, God's great law 
of retribution. 

Conscience ! Conscience ! It was itself a Resurrection- 
power within him ! — There came at last a season of re- 
pose to his overwrought passions. Herod is feasting 
with his train in imperial pavilions. They discourse of 
the fame of Jesus. They tell him of a mysterious Man 
walking amid the cities and villages of the land, gifted, 
seemingly, with the powers of higher and immortal 
beings ! Of stilled seas, and healed diseases, and the 
dead raised unto life ! 

And look at the Tetrarch now ! His cheek pale, his 
lip quivering, his wild eye glaring upon vacancy ! He 
starts from his couch ! The wine cup drops from his 
hand ! as he whispers with white lips — " It is John the 
Baptist — he is risen from the dead /" 

Ah me ! What aileth the Tetrarch there amid princes 
and nobles ? J ohn the Baptist sleeps still in his distant 
grave. But a simple thought long buried within his 
murderer's soul hath been unsepulchred ! He thought 
to silence the living voice of God's prophet, but that 
voice in the dark chambers of his soul will wake echoes 
forever ! He thought to dismiss from his presence that 
stern, reproachful face ! But he only rendered it omni- 
present and immortal ! And it will come to him — it 
wall come — that whisper of the dead — that shape of the 
departed ! Let him go forth amid life's bustle and hurri- 



64 



INSINCERE UNBELIEF. 



cane. Let him surround himself with silken courtiers or 
mailed men of war. Let him retire into the secret places 
of his palace, and bar the door, and draw the thick 
curtain ! Nevertheless, within his own spirit he carries 
the avenger ! The tormentor of the guilty will be ever 
beside him ! A cry as of a dying man will fill all the 
air ! A dissevered head upon a charger will rise before 
him as if chiseled in adamant ! A bloodless face and 
glazing eye will look upon him from curtain and canopy ! 
And his own lip will quiver, and his knees smite to- 
gether, and a voice like one of God's terrible oracles will 
be crying ever in his ear — "It is John the Baptist — he is 
risen from the dead!'''' 

Here then we say is a striking illustration of the povjer 
of a roused conscience, as God's avenger of sin. And 
we commend it especially to that class of men who find 
their representative in Herod. Against this doctrine of 
Retribution the whole infidel and ungodly world has 
ever arrayed itself. Nor is this a marvel ! " These 
shall go away into everlasting punishment!" Ah, these 
are terrible words. And at first view it does seem to the 
carnal heart a'disproportioned penalty — eternal punish- 
ment for temporal transgression ! But this is a false 
seeming. It is not endless suffering for an ended sin. 
The spirit goes on sinning into eternity, and so suffers 
forever because it sins forever ! 

I have no room nor necessity here for an argument for 
Retribution. I have only to do with this natural illus- 
tration. I am not prophesying what God will do, but 
only showing what man himself does ! It is a favorite 
postulate, even of the infidel philosophy, that no im- 
pression once made on the thinking principle is ever 



INSINCERE UNBELIEF. 



65 



obliterated. And it has doubtless happened unto you 
all to observe, how some trifling thing — a remark in 
conversation — the view of a familiar landscape — a strain 
of some long forgotten harmony — yea, a thing so 
slight as the rustle of a falling leaf, or the breath of 
a flower's perfume — has awakened in the mind a long 
train of recollections; — thoughts long forgotten move 
again powerfully within us. We are borne away sud- 
denly to other scenes, we live virtually in other times 
and other conditions. The magic of memory has 
summoned from the past, shadowy forms, faces, voices, 
it may be of the dead ! They rise upon us, they move 
before us, as life's great realities, and for the time we 
are under their mysterious power, as our angels or 
avengers ! 

Now, whether or not conscience be but a modification 
of memory, certain we are it follows the same great law. 
Conscience, too, may be beguiled for a season of its 
avenging power. You may sear it with hot passion or 
drug it with ungodly indulgence. But this you 'can not 
do — you can not destroy it — you can not permanently 
dethrone it — you can not, in the end, weaken one of the 
tremendous blows it is armed to strike, nor hush one 
of the terrible oracles it is eloquent to utter ! The hour 
and the scene of its sure vengeance is coming. There 
are conditions wherein your control over the conscience 
ceases forever ! 

In that hour when shackle and scale fall together 
from the immortalized-mortal, every mprisoned thought 
within shall partake of the enfranchisement, and then 
conscience, aroused from its slumber, with iron foot and 
lash of scorpions, shall stalk in wierd power through the 



66 



INSINCERE UNBELIEF. 



chambers of the soul, summoning hack from the grave 
the shapes and spectres of the past. 

And this is the thought we would force upon the con- 
sideration of these modern Herodians ! This is a sermon 
preached, not by an inspired apostle, but by a progres- 
sive infidel ! And if you will not listen to John the Bap- 
tist as he preaches of " Repentance" listen at least to 
Herod the Tetrarch as he preaches of the Resurrection ! 

You may be of those who laugh at the idea of a hell, 
and denounce as positively malignant all those inspired 
oracles which speak of " the undying worm" and " the 
smoke of the torment" — yet you are not accustomed 
either to deny or ignore these laws of your own intellect- 
ual and moral nature — this strange power of conscience. 
You have sometimes felt its omnipotence ! It may have 
been slightly, and but for a moment ! In some move- 
ment of the dance, in some swell of the music, in some 
pouring of the wine, it may have startled you tran- 
siently, and then slept again ! But know you not what 
you felt ? A fitful thought ? a flitting emotion ? A 
voice like an JEolian's, born and dying with the wind ? 

as that all ? Alas, no ! It was the germ of a terrible 
and immortal life and growth. It was the first touch of 
a fang that shall rend as a ravening lion's. It was the 
first tongue of a devouring fire that shall flame out 
intolerable forever ! 

Mark me — (for on such a point, standing face to face 
with the awful words in this Book of God, I will not be 
misunderstood on a point so momentous) — mark me, 
I do not say, that this conscience is all there is in retri- 
bution. Even in the case of Herod, while he abode 
among men, this was not all— for the awful record is — 



INSINCERE UNBELIEF. 



67 



thus even as he sat enthroned as a god in royal apparel, 
" the angel of the Lord smote him, and he toas eaten of 
worms, and gave up the ghost" All this was in the 
flesh ! " And what his poor self destroyed spirit ex- 
perienced as it sprang disembodied to eternity, no mor- 
tal may know. 

As there are on earth dungeons of thick gloom, and 
nights of terrible darkness, so those things may have 
beyond the grave their great antitypes. There may be 
an extraneous ministry of torment in the dwellings of 
Heaven's outcasts ! There may be walls of fiery ada- 
mant, and sackcloth of hair — and awful forms stalking 
throuo;h the dooms of the " outer darkness !" These 
denunciations of the wrath of God, which fill all those 
pages of inspiration may have a positive and an over- 
whelming significance. Of such things my text leads me 
not to speak. But of this we may be sure that if there 
were no room in God's fair universe for any of these 
terrible things, yet there is room in that universe for 
sin's fitting and fearful retribution ! 

For this is even the teaching of your own infidelity. 
It is not Moses, nor David, nor Paul, nor John ; but it 
is Herod, the enthroned chieftain of your own mocking 
unbelief, who to-day tells you — that if God should sweep 
omnipotently away that great prison-house of despair, and 
quench its consuming fires, and hush its mighty thunder- 
ings — nevertheless, you, by the iniquities of your daily 
lives, would rear again those walls, and light again the 
fires, and launch again the thunders ! 

Sin, sin it is, as an operative principle within you, 
that, by arming conscience with an eye of fire and whip 
of scorpions, gives to the "worm" its fang, and to the 



68 



"insincere unbelief. 



"fires" their fierceness. Believe, if you will, that God 
is too merciful to make a hell. Yet you know, for you 
have seen, that every sinful man is making it. You 
have stood by the couch of the inebriate, when the wild 
madness was on him ; or by the murderer, when he 
moved and moaned in his fearful dream ! It may have 
been in some beautiful home of love, in some pleasant 
chamber filled with summer sunshine and the' fragrance 
of bright flowers. But the man of violence was con- 
vulsed in his slumber, as if the pale face of his dead 
victim rose ever before him; and the drunkard sprang 
up with glaring eye, to wrestle with the monsters that 
pressed upon him to torture ! And yet, all these tor- 
mentors were not creatures made by God, but the man's 
own creations — the projections of his own evil thoughts 
into great outward realities ! 

This is the law of man's moral nature, and under it 
you are all working out your own retribution. You are 
doing it always, each one for himself. 

Ye lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God ! — com- 
pelling your immortal affections downward from the 
bosom of Infinite Love to embrace the dead spectres of 
sinful delights — alas ! you are drinking of the cup of a 
dreadful delirium. You are sharpening the tooth of the 
undying worm, and fanning the fires of the unquenchable 
burnino; ! Ye men hastening to be rich in violation of 
God's commandments, filling the chambers of the immor- 
tal soul with corruptible silver and gold, so that there is 
no room therein for the grander things of eternity, — alas ! 
you are but filling your bosoms with a ponderous dust 
that shall sink you in drowning agony when your immor- 
tal bark founders ! 



INSIJSf GER E UNBELIEF. 



69 



Ye men of sinful ambition, weaving out of these 
earthly thorns chaplets that pierce the very brows made 
to wear heaven's shining diadems, — alas ! ye are but 
rearing out of the ruin of your immortal hopes a fiery 
throne, whereon an infernal despot shall lift over you 
forever a sceptre of torment ! 

This, this my text tells you. Oh, take its truths 
home with you. If ye will not hear Moses and the 
prophets, listen at least to Herod, the great infidel ! 

Oh, thou imperial ruler in that oriental palace — Herod 
crowned and throned — who in that path of guilty glad- 
ness hast driven your proud chariot OA 7 er the headless 
body of God's murdered servant, tell us ! tell these care- 
less, impenitent souls — these dear children that in wicked 
ways are crucifying parental love ! — these exulting youth, 
that madly freight these poor bubbles of pleasure with 
their pearls of great price ! — these men and women, who 
sport with life and soul and immortality, as babes with 
the baubles they break ! Oh, tell us all, if it needs God's 
arbitrary and avenging omnipotence to give to the worm 
its sting, and to the fire its burning ? Speak out fully, 
here and now, the secret of the text's strange utterance ! 
Tell us if your dreams were fair and bright on that im- 
perial couch of sin ! Tell us if there came to your palace- 
halls no avenging phantom from yonder prison-cell ! Tell 
us if it rose not ever up at your board and your banquet, 
that grim " head upon a charger !" Tell us if you heard 
not, amid all the music of your royal minstrels, that 
death-cry of the murdered John ! Tell us if you saw it 
not ever in throne-room and banquet-hall, as if cut in 
eternal marble — that headless body of God's prophet J 

Tell us if yours was an armed guard, or a marble wall, 



70 INSINCERE UNBELIEF. 



or an iron portal, that could shut away from your inner 
chamber that spectral and unbidden guest ! Tell us if 
you piled on the Baptist's lonely grave a weight of 
mountains that could keep the dead man down when the 
sorceress — conscience — waved her wand and. muttered 
her enchantments ! 

Nay — you have told us. You do tell us this day — here 
in this simple yet most solemn story ! 

We see it — a palace opened for festival, flooded with 
light, music, fragrance — bright forms crossing its thresh- 
old, the gathering of prince and noble to joyous and 
kingly revel. And now, as the wine sparkles, and the 
music breathes, and the incense burns, we hear soft voices 
speaking wonderingly of the glorious deeds of a mighty 
stranger in Galilee — in words more enchanting than the 
idyls of the harpers — telling of demons conquered, and 
diseases healed, and the dead raised unto new life — of the 
advent of a Divine One to redeem a lost race, and restore 
the old Paradise. But while every other eye flashes, and 
every other heart bounds in wondering delight, behold 
the Tetrarch ! What aileth him in that hour of triumph ? 
That brow, pale under its chaplets- — those joints loosed 
under the kingly purple — that eye strained, glaring as 
upon some terrible phantom — those arms outstretched, as 
if to repel some fiery shape from eternity ! 

And what means it ? Alas ! only this. What the un- 
believer thought God could not do, he hath done for 
himself. He hath wrought out retribution ! He hath 
achieved a Resurrection ! The grave hath sent an unbid- 
den guest to the murderer's banquet! "It is John the 
Baptist— he is risen from the dead." 



THE GOSPEL CALL. 



" And the Spirit and the Bride saij, Come. And let him that heareth 
say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let 
him take the water of life freely." — Revelation, xxii. 17. 

There is unquestionably such a thing as too much 
exposition of the Sacred Scriptures. Addressed by 
Jehovah to a race unused in the main to critical and 
metaphysical investigations, the Bible is written in lan- 
guage so simple and familiar, that the wayfaring man, 
though a fool, need not err in its understanding. And 
very much of its beauty and force is weakened by every 
attempt to simplify and illustrate it. 

This is true of our text. It is a scripture whereon 
learned exposition might ingeniously be bestowed ; and 
yet the result of such exposition be but an injury. Read 
just as it stands in its connections, and the Sabbath- 
school child understands it to be — Christ's Gospel call 
unto all men to come to him and 'be saved. 

The metaphor is Oriental, yet its meaning is apparent 
and most simple — Christ the Great Saviour is repre- 
sented as a Fountain, opened in Life's wilderness, around 
which rise innumerable voices of invitation : the " Spir- 
it' s " (i. e. God's) voices, in the Bible, in Providence, in 
Divine influences: the "Bride's" (i. e. the Church's) 



72 



THE GOSPEL GALL. 



voices, from her ministers, her members, her ordinances ; 
the voices, moreover, of all creatures who have seen the 
living water and the thirsting multitude — all these voices 
rise in one loud and loving invitation " to take the loater 
of life freely" 

The text assumes two things, and teaches two things. 

First, it assumes — Tliat man by nature is in a perish- 
ing condition. He is represented here as a traveler in a 
desert, imperiled with deadly thirst. And in this it 
only reiterates a truth taught abundantly by man's 
natural conscience and the whole Word of God. That 
man is by nature a lost sinner, is indeed involved in the 
very existence of the Bible — for what need of a revealed 
plan of salvation, if the object of the revelation be not 
utterly lost ? 

And to this Bible truth, man's natural conscience is 
universally responsive. We are always sure on this 
point, that we address no man who feels not at times 
conscious of his depravity, and of his need of pardon 
and^ salvation. No hardihood of infidelity is able to 
silence the whispers of this instinct of guilt. And 
never has the adventurous voyager over unknown seas 
lighted upon solitary and secluded islands, whose in- 
habitants were not found agonizing with this sense of 
sin — this fever thirst for the waters of salvation. All 
the false worship of th'e heathen world was, and is, only 
the soul's practical expression of its earnest desire for a 
redemption from the stings of a guilty conscience, and 
the terrible agonies of eternal death. On this point 
reason and revelation are at one — That all men by 
nature are condemned sinners ; poor pilgrims in a desert^ 
pining and perishing loith an immortal thirst. 



THE GOSPEL CALL. 



73 



Meanwhile, the text takes also for granted — That in 
the Gospel of Christ, and in it alone, is there for sinf ul 
man a way of salvation. 

Christ Jesus is truly and only " the water of life." 
He is the source and spring even of physical and ?iatu- 
ral life. All things that are, are parts of his media- 
torial kingdom. The soul itself, which we term im- 
mortal, has no inherent and essential immortality, and 
would sink into non-existence but for his mediatorial 
upholding. And all created objects surrounding the 
soul, are kept in being only by Divine sustentation ; so 
that should Jehovah-Jesus cease to be, the entire uni- 
verse would sink at once into that nothingness whence 
at his creating fiat it at first emerged. 

But in a sense special and peculiar is Christ Jesus the 
fountain of spiritual life. The great moral or spiritual 
want of man's nature has a threefold element. 

There is a want of Knowledge — a want of any thing 
but conjecture, alike as to the fact and the fate of im- 
mortality — so that living on this secluded isle of being, 
and about to loose from these mortal moorings, and 
stand out for eternity, man's desire to know through 
what regions of sunshine or storm may lie his broad 
voyagings — to know what shall be his future — that 
agonizing desire may be well called thirst. 

Then there is a want of Poioer. For though Heaven, 
in all its glory, should come out as a world visible to 
the senses in the firmament ; still, unto the up-looking 
mortal, possessed of no organs whereby to mount from 
this lowly earth, and achieve entrance to its beatitudes, 
the long-in <r for strong; wing;s to ascend those far heights 
would be of a strength and intensity to be well called thirst. 
4 



74 



THE GOSPEL CALL. 



Moreover, there is a want of Preparation. For if 
you were to bear a human spirit, unsanctified, up at 
once to that Paradise of Righteousness, and, with all 
its humbling sense of its own un-meetness, usher it amid 
the pomps and the purities of heaven, then verily, as a 
blind man amid radiant landscapes, or a deaf man amid 
ravishing harmonies, or a beggar in his rags amid the 
purple and gold of a monarch's pavilion, would it pine 
under a conscious want of preparation and adaptation. 
So that soul would be tortured with an ao-onizingj long- 
ing for sanctification and holiness, which may well be 
called thirst. 

And we say, this whole threefold want of man's 
nature is satisfied at once and forever in the redemp- 
tion of Christ. Knowledge is given in the revelation of 
Immortality and Life brought to light in the Gospel — 
Power is given, to ascend the skies, and achieve entrance 
through a Mediator's merits into the City of Holiness. 
And Preparation is given — for washed in the blood of 
the Lamb, the robes which the ransomed spirit wears are 
lustrous and pure as the robes of the archangel. And 
supplying thus every want of the immortal nature, 
Christ may well be spoken of as the " Fountain of the 
Water of Life" quenching forever in the stricken spirit 
its immortal thirst. 

Christ Jesus is to a sinful soul the alone ground of 
salvation. In him are all our sources and springs of 
blessedness. From him issue all the streams making 
glad the sin-sick — the stream of Cleansing Blood — the 
stream of Justifying Grace — the stream of Adopting 
Love — the stream of Sanctifying Power — the stream of 
Holy Peace — the stream of Gospel Ordinances — the 



THE GOSPEL GALL. 



75 



stream of Divine Fellowship — the stream of Heavenly 
Consolation. Yea, and in those high realms of glory, 
whereunto the ransomed soul ascends, all the raptures 
of the Blest have their springs in him. " For the very 
river of the water of life proceedeth out of the throne 
of God and of the Lamb" So that whatever spiritual 
blessedness is vouchsafed to the child of God — the 
blessedness experienced in his earthly life, or the bless- 
edness aspired to in the faith of a transepulchral immor- 
tality — all this blessedness, represented in the text by 
the figure of sweet water, has its springs and sources 
only in Christ. 

The Gospel of Christ meets the soul of man as a poor, 
perishing wanderer in life's wilderness, and leads him at 
once to the fountain of living waters. He drinks, and 
is refreshed. He drinks, and is comforted. He drinks, 
and is purified. He drinks, and is saved. And now, 
with his sins forgiven, and his heart renewed, he walks, 
even on earth, in Christ's righteousness a conqueror, and 
more than a conqueror. He comes to the Jordan of 
death, and its dark flood rolls backward, and he passes 
over with songs of victory. Seraphs meet him on the 
heavenly shore. They clothe him in white raiment. 
The crown, the harp, the throne of immortality are his 
in the city and paradise of God. His are forever " the 
things to come" immeasurable, unutterable — " the far 
more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." And doing 
all this for him, and much more, for which mortal man 
hath no thought, and no utterance, oh, how fittingly and 
how beautifully is this Gospel set forth, as unto pining 
and perishing humanity — u The Water of Life." 

These two things the text takes for granted — That 



76 THE GOSPEL CALL. 

man is by nature athirst — and That Christ Jesus relieves 
him. 

Then there are two other things that the text mani- 
festly teaches : — 

First. The universality of the Gospel offer. 

" Let him that is athirst come" (i. e.) Let every one 
come who is sinful and perishing. And, that no man 
might limit the offer, by interpreting the word " thirst " 
to mean a supernatural and spiritual desire, excited in 
the soul by extraordinary grace, it is added — "And 
w7iosoever will let him come." Yea, and as if to terrify 
any bigoted soul from daring to put any limit to the 
fullness of an offered salvation, it is added again, "If any 
man shall take from the toords of the book of this 
prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book 
of life." 

And yet, alas ! in full face of this terrible anathema, 
mortal men have dared to rear bulwarks of bigotry 
round about this precious fountain of the living water. 
Some men build them out of the mysterious attributes 
and operations of the Divine nature. They tell us that 
God is a sovereign, with eternal and immutable pur- 
poses ; and that, therefore, the decree of election is a 
reason why some men will be lost. But they say all 
this falsely. To declare that God is a sovereign, with 
eternal and immutable purposes, is indeed only to affirm 
the bald truism, that God is a God. But, sovereign and 
immutable as he is, and must be, yet God himself every- 
where declares that there is no hinderance to any man's 
salvation, save the man's own selfish and obstinate will. 

When, theologically, we predicate simplicity of the 
Divine nature, it is implied that God 's pleasure and God's 



THE GOSPEL CALL. 



77 



purpose are synonymous terms. And when God declares 
that he hath no pleasure in the death of a sinner, he de- 
clares as well that he hath no purpose which involves 
the death of that sinner. 

We question not in all its fullness the doctrine of 
God's sovereignty. We glory in that doctrine. We 
glory in the iron theology of John Calvin, because it was 
Christ's theology, and because it was Paul's ; because, 
indeed, it is the only philosophic stand-point between 
Faith and blank Atheism. But then true Calvinism 
takes no greater guard of the Divine sovereignty than 
God himself takes of it. It leaves the great and mys- 
terious truth of Divine decrees safe in the Divine and 
Omnipotent keeping. And finding it written in the 
record, as one of God's fixed and eternal purposes, — 
that without restriction or limitation, " whosoever ivill 
may take the water of life freely" — no true Calvinist 
ever thinks to break in pieces the adamant of the Divine 
nature, that he may rear, out of its fragments, muni- 
tions of eternal rock round about the fountain of the life 
everlasting. God says those living waters flow freely 
unto all men. And the man who dares use any Divine 
attribute as an obstacle to any man's salvation, perverts 
God's own truth, and makes God a liar. 

Meanwhile other men build these bulwarks round the 
<c living waters " out of their own wisdom and philoso- 
phy. There is an exclusive and sectarian bigotry — not 
confined to any one Christian denomination, but in a 
measure, at least, common to them all — which talks 
rather of " the Church," than of Christ crucified ; of 
sacraments, rather than of the Sacrifice ; which prac- 
tically regards the grace of God as flowing in the 



78 



THE GOSPEL CALL. 



channels of its own exclusive ordinances, and the healing 
power of the living water, as abiding rather in the 
earthen chalice than in the sparkling spring. To hear 
these men talk of ordinations, and confessions, and suc- 
cessions, and baptisms, one would think that this foun- 
tain of salvation were, like a mineral spring at a watering 
place, inclosed, and appropriated, and surrounded by 
liveried water-dippers, so that the soul that will not 
drink from these particular cups must needs perish in 
agony. 

And the abomination of this last thing is worse than 
the first. Tell me that God's eternal decree shuts me 
away from salvation, and I could better be reconciled to 
it. The grandeur of the Eternal One, as with his majestic 
sceptre he waves me back from the fountain, would give 
dignity to destruction. But to be repul'sed from the 
sweet waters by a poor mortal gesture ; to lose the heal- 
ing draught because a spider's web is spun by the well- 
side ; to be driven backward upon God's uncovenanted 
mercies by some fair-lipped champion of successions and 
baptisms; to die of thirst in full view of the swelling 
fountain, because the cup wherewith I would draw and 
drink hath not the blazon of a shibboleth — oh, this is 
intolerable ! 

To be told that salvation is to be found only, or even 
especially, in the Presbyterian communion, or the Meth- 
odist communion, or the Episcopal communion, or the 
Baptist communion, or especially or only in any or all of 
them — this is intolerable blasphemy ! 

Why, what is the Church ? The fountain of living 
water ? No, sirs ! An inclosure round about that foun- 
tain ? No, sirs ! The Church, all together, or in its 



TEE GOSPEL GALL. 79 
-# 

distinct denominations, is only a company of thirsty men, 
who have come to drink, each man for himself, of that 
blessed fountain, and whose only office is that of the 
" Bride," to say " Come — come.' 1 '' Is Baptism salvation ? 
No, sirs! Is the Lord's Supper salvation ? No, sirs! 
Are Church ordinances salvation ? No, sirs ! Christ 
crucified is salvation/ Let me meet a poor heathen 
in the wilderness, who never heard of a church or of 
a sacrament, and to whom in his circumstances a sacra- 
ment were impossible, and as I tell him the story of 
Christ crucified for sinners, I say, " Repent and believe, 
and thou shalt be saved forever." 

Ah, ye troublers of men's consciences, about the poor 
mint and anise of rites and ceremonies, go up to Mount 
Calvary, and shut away if you can, if you dare, that 
dying malefactor, unto God's uncovenanted mercies, be- 
cause he sat not at your board, and went not forth to 
your baptism, and the forgiving look of your glorious 
Redeemer will palsy the tongue that utters the blas- 
phemy ! Church ordinances may be indeed channels for 
the flowing of God's grace, but Christ crucified is the 
fountain, "and tohosoever will may take the icater of 
life freely." 

" Whosoever will" No matter how unlovely ; 'no mat- 
ter how lost. Wherever, amid Gospel ordinances, or in 
lonely and heathen separation from all church privileges 
— wherever there is a human body wrapt round a human 
spirit — wherever there is a pulse to bound, and a lip to 
thirst, and an ear to hear the voice of the Spirit — limit- 
less as the undying love of the Saviour that opened it, 
there flows the priceless fountain of salvation unto the 
thirst of the world. And woe, woe be unto him — who, 



80 THE GOSPEL GALL. 

# 

to magnify falsely a Divine attribute, or to glorify the 
bulwarks of a creed, or to guard with factitious sanctity 
the sepulchres of a Pharisaic church — woe be unto him ; 
a woe written in the blood of souls, and breathed in 
dread anathema by heavenly Voices ; yea, the woe of 
having his part taken from the book of life, and of hav- 
ing added unto him the plagues written in the book of 
this prophecy — so terrible a woe be unto him who dares, 
with a human bigotry, to come between any sin-sick soul 
and a crucified Saviour, or to take any thing from the 
absolute fullness of the Gospel of Christ. 

Having opened a living fountain for a thirsting world, 
the Spirit utters the cry, and the Bride echoes it, and 
every one that hears afar oif the glad sound takes up the 
invitation, and extends it further. And it circles the 
round world, and is borne along the waters, and wafted 
by the winds, through the gates of great cities, and 
athwart wide continents, and into the hamlets of the 
hills, and the lone cabins of the wilderness — and it rings 
out in every chamber as an angel's voice, and startles 
every heart as an alarm-cry from eternity — that same 
blessed deliverance, everywhere and only, " Let him that 
is athirst come, and whosoever will, let him take the 
water of life freely." 

Meanwhile — secondly, the text teaches the absolute 
feeexess of the Gospel offer. 

Free, we mean, as to its reception by the creature — not 
free in the sense of resulting from God's natural attribute 
of benevolence. Though it may not be for us to under- 
stand why God could not pardon sin without an atone- 
ment, yet this fact is a simple and explicit revelation — 
there is no salvation for a guilty soul but in Christ's 



TEE GOSPEL GALL. 



81 



great sacrifice. God can not be to ns in this sense freely 
benevolent as he is to nnfallen angels. "Love to man as 
a condemned sinner, flows only through the channels of 
an appointed. Mediatorship. The covenant blessings for 
his Church are unto Christ, not free favors, but a pur- 
chased possession. By his sorrows we are comforted ! 
By his stripes we are healed ! The Rock whence the 
life-stream bursts, is a smitten and a shivered Rock ! 
Our salvation cost Christ Jesus a heavenly crown and 
kingdom — a descent from an eternal enthronement — a 
humiliation unto death, even the death of the cross. But 
to man it is offered freely, " without money and without 
price." 

God asks no man to make an atonement for his own 
sins. That atonement is made already. God requires 
no austerities, no penances, no pilgrimages, to secure his 
favor. Salvation is brought to our very door, and offered 
free as the waters of earth and the air of heaven. The 
fountain hath been opened by a Divine hand, and the 
streams gush forth brightly, and fair forms stand by the 
well-side, and unto every poor wanderer in life's hot 
desert sounds out the glad cry, " Come, take the water of 
life freely." 

Yes, and if taken at all, it must be taken freely. And 

here all false religions, and all human perversions of 

the true religion, are fearfully at fault. They send 

their disciples to the Divine fountain of grace, in one 

way or another, to purchase the living water. To the 

carnal heart, in its pride and vainglory, it is distasteful to 

receive as a free gift the soul's salvation ; and seeking 

to commingle its own merits with the righteousness 

of Christ, it perverts Christianity into " another gospel." 
4 * 



82 



THE GOSPEL CALL. 



There is a religion of forms, and there is a religion 
of faith — a religion of piety, and a religion of Pharisa- 
ism — a religion of penitence, and a religion of penances 
— a religion of ritualism, and a religion of righteous- 
ness — a religion of the crucifix, and a religion of the 
cross. And these are not one. And in this they differ 
— the one is a religion of free gift and grace / the other 
is a religion of merit and purchase-money. 

All false worship is the offering of some poor human 
equivalent for the living water. The monster-myste- 
ries of heathenism — the smoke of altars, the clouds of 
burnt incense, the blood of tortured victims ; the pomps 
of the old Pharisaism — the phylacteries, and the tithes 
of cummin and anise, and the street-prayers; the 
masses and mummeries of cowled and cloistered priests, 
that make up the haggard superstition of the Tiber; 
the vaunting self-righteousness, that in the true Church 
of God thinks complacently of its own good works, as 
antecedents of justification — are each and all but the 
poor devices of the carnal heart to merit salvation ; the 
false coin of a spiritual currency wherewith unhumbled 
man would buy of the great God the living water. 

But away with them! 'away with them! God will 
have none of it. Jesus Christ will not allow human 
copartnership in the work of his sacrifice. My poor 
tears and blood can -not commingle meritoriously with 
the blood and tears of the great Lamb of Eternity. If 
I come to drink of the living water, it must be with no 
price in my hand to purchase the blessing. Jehovah 
will be, to the end, a glorious Sovereign in salvation. 

What he giveth, he giveth! All thought of human 
merit dies at once and forever amid the shadows of 



THE GOSPEL GALL. 



83 



Calvary. To stay away from Christ till you have done 
something to secure his regards, and prepare yourself 
for salvation, is to reject Christ forever. You may sell 
your Lord for thirty pieces of silver ! but buy him, oh, 
you can not with the treasures of a universe ! " Who- 
soever is athirst may take, nay, must take the water of 
life freely." 

These, then, are the simple and obvious lessons which 
the text teaches. Such, my hearers, is the Gospel call — 
universal in its offer — free in its conditions— glorious in 
its ineffable and everlasting blessedness. Here flows 
from the smitten Rock a fountain of peace, and joy, and 
salvation, and life everlasting. And who wonders, that, 
standing by its heavenly streams, and beholding the 
multitudes of a thirsting race perishing in the wilder- 
ness — who wonders that the Spirit lifts up the voice, 
and the Bride lifts up the voice, and he that heareth 
lifts up the voice, till the earth resounds with the enrap- 
turing invitation — " Come, take the water of life freely /" 

Now, in conclusion, let me press two points of per- 
sonal application. The first is to the heart and con- 
science of the professing Christian. Hark ! "And let 
him that heareth say, come." Let him say, come. This 
text makes you all heralds of salvation. Ah ! this work 
of calling sinners to repentance is not the work alone of 
an ordained ministry. Under the Gospel every saved 
soul becomes, by the great law of influences, a centre 
of salvation. Every light kindled by God must radiate 
light through the surrounding darkness. The simple 
fact, that you have drawn water in joy from the wells 
of salvation must constrain you, by a very law of your 
nature, to lead others in their thirst to the blessed fountain. 



84 



TEE GOSPEL CALL. 



It is so even in natural things. Behold that company 
of Israelites, thirsting in the Exodus. See, amid the 
burning sands of the desert the fainting thousands of 
the tribes ! Note the glassy but fierce eye — the sunken 
cheek — the quivering limb ! Hark to the sob — the moan 
■ — the wild cry — the gasping breath ! But look again ! 
The great Lawgiver hath smitten the rock — and forth 
in living streams foams and sparkles the cool, bright 
water ! Ah now, how they spring from their agony, 
and rush to the stream-side ! 

See that mother ! With the strength of a giant she 
cleaves her way to the fountain — she revives her fainting 
life with one full, deep draught, and then back, swifter 
than she came, to bear the life-cup to her dying child ! 

And there again, behold that Hebrew girl ! Timid 
in her shrinking beauty in all the past marchings of the 
tribes — but now, rushing in the might of a mailed war- 
rior to the sparkling spring, that she may bear back to 
her fainting mother's lip the life-giving draught of that 
bright, cool water ! 

Such is human nature — so unselfish and noble even in 
its sinful ruins. And shall that nature regenerate and 
redeemed, show itself more selfish in its joys of salvation ? 
Can you, oh, can you, ye ransomed ones, can you taste 
the blessed water from the eternal Rock, and strive not, 
with all the might that is in you, to bring the imperiled 
and beloved to the fountain, that they may drink and 
live ? 

Ah me ! you were dying of immortal thirst in life's 
great desert, when upon your ear fell a heavenly voice, 
telling of living water ; and you rose from the death- 
spell, and struggled to the fountain, and drank, and live 



TEE GOSPEL GALL. 



85 



And now to you comes the commandment — " Let him 
that heareth say, Come." Oh, beloved members of this 
Church, awake to your high ministry ! Tell me not 
that you can not speak to impenitent men about Christ 
and salvation. Methinks, if you are saved sinners you 
can not keep silence. Methinks your grateful heart will 
" sing to the well," exultingly and ever, as the freed bird 
sin^s to the air and sunshine. You have heard the ojlad 
sound, and believed it, and live in it — " and let him that 
heareth say, Come, and take the icater of life freely." 

The other point of personal appeal is to the impenitent 
sinner. 

This is to-day my commission. Hark ! hark ! I hear 
it ! The Spirit's voice and the Bride's saying — "Let him 
that heareth say, Come" And as one that heareth, I 
take up the loving call, and cry — " Whosoever will, let 
him take the icater of life freely." 

Oh, my message to you is a sweet message. We have 
to-day no terrors. We speak not of the wrath of God 
poured out without mixture into your cup of trembling. 
We speak only of bright water from a heavenly spring. 
" Come, take the water of life freely." 

Come ! Come ! What say you to this gracious call ? 
Do you answer — " Oh no, I am not athirst. I do not 
need the living water. I have no un quenched desire ; 
no agonizing yearning." Ah, but I know better. The 
very haste with which you rush to earth's unsatisfying 
things — as poor pilgrims to the mocking mirage of the 
desert — disproves all your boasting. You are athirst. 
In the depths of your own natures you are conscious of a 
mighty want. The world does not satisfy. The im- 
mortal spirit within pleads piteously for better things. 



86* 



THE GOSPEL CALL. 



That is thirst. Your heart faints under earthly bereave- 
ments. You long for pleasures that do not fade — for 
riches that are incorruptible — for friendships that deceive 
not. That is thirst ! You are afraid of death — of the 
judgment — of eternity. That is thirst ! Alas, I know 
it, for I have stood in the green places, where life's wa- 
ter sparkled brightliest to mortal lips, and found the cup 
dashed with wormwood, and longed the while for water 
from a purer spring. And I know — spite of all your 
songs and seemings of gladness — that you are parched 
and pining with an immortal thirst. Come, then, oh, 
come to the living water ! 

Or do you say — " Oh no, thirsty as I am, I do not be- 
lieve Christ Jesus can satisfy me. Mount Calvary with 
its darkness, and its cross, and its expiring victim — ah, 
this does not look to me like a green spot in the desert, 
with palms and bright water !" But I answer — You do 
not know, for you have not tasted, that the Lord is gra- 
cious. Take testimony unto the preciousness of the 
Saviour. Ask the dying thief! Ask Stephen, amid his 
martyr-visions of glory ! Ask John, amid the magnifi- 
cent revelations of Patmos ! Ask Paul, in the rapture 
of his exodus to the eternal ! Nay, just try it for your- 
selves ! Just come to the fountain ! Stand here under 
the cross of my dying Lord, and drink one full, deep 
draught of the water of salvation ; and then if it seem 
bitter to the soul, dash the heavenly cup to the dust, 
and go back to your sins again ! 

But do you say — " Well, give me the cup, then. I 
am ready to drink it. I am willing to be a Christian. 
I really wish I was a Christian. Bring me the living 
water!" But I answer, No. You must come to the 



THE GOSPEL CALL. 



87 



fountain. To come to Christ is to turn from your sins 
in penitence, and cast yourselves in faith on the merits 
of your Redeemer. And this you must 'do for your- 
selves. This no creature can do for you. God has 
opened the fountain, and issued the invitation ; and you 
must rise up from the dust, and struggle to the water. 
Come, come to Christ Jesus ! 

But you say — " Must I not be born again, in order to 
enter into the kingdom of heaven ?" And I answer — 
certainly you must. But regeneration is not your work. 
Faith is your work — regeneration is God's work. Be- 
lieving is something to be done — the new birth is some- 
thing to be experienced. Believing and repenting is 
coming to the water — but regeneration and sanctifi ca- 
tion are streams from the fountain ; parts of God's free 
and glorious gift of the living water. Your part is to 
believe — God's part is to regenerate. Do your part, and 
you will find his is done already. Come, then, oh, come 
to the living water ! 

Oh, this blessed invitation ! Why this shrinking from 
the Gospel call, as if it were a summons unto agony and 
conflict ? It is only the offer, unto a thirsting spirit, of 
the cup of salvation — only a call to cast away the poor 
rags of self-righteousness, and be clothed in Christ's 
spotless and lustrous garments. Only to turn from 
the beggarly elements of this world, and receive, without 
money and without price, "a far more exceeding and 
eternal weight of glory." Then come, oh, come, to 
the living water ! 

Hark how this invitation comes breathed in blessed 
voices — " The Spirit and the Bride say come." The 
Spirit. The God. The great and glorious One who 



88 



TEE GOSPEL CALL. 



inhabiteth eternity. The gracious Father — the atoning 
Son — the applying Spirit. The mighty God speaks. 
Not in a voice of terror. Not words of wrathful doom 
and abandonment. But in that loving tone, that sweet 
and gentle word, wherewith a watchful mother calls her 
wearied, wayward child — " Come ! Come ! Come !" 

"And the Bride says, Come." Ah, the Bride! The 
Lamb's wife. The Church triumphal and glorified. 
You find fault often with the earthly Church ; and some- 
times justly. Our ways are unequal, our garments are 
not white, our voices woo not mightily with their sad 
discords. But the Bride calls ! The triumphant Church 
in glory — the redeemed who have put on their immor- 
tality. That sainted father — that ransomed mother — 
that blessed sister — that redeemed child ! Those risen 
anc). raptured spirits call yon. Oh, look up from these 
lowly graves, poor mourner ! They are yonder in the 
green fields, by the stream of life in heaven. And as 
they go forth along the river-side, and drink of its living 
water, they are thinking of you — they are waiting for 
you. And their blessed voices come down lovingly 
on these earthly airs—" Come, come, come, take the wa- 
ter of life freely." 

Oh, what a call is this ! The Spirit and the Bride 
call, and he that heareth calls. The voices of all God's 
bright and blessed things take up the utterance. The 
dear ones in your earthly homes — -mother, and sister, 
and brother, and child — whose names are written in the 
Lamb's book of life, cry, " Come, come !" And the 
Church below, Christ's witness unto the world, in all 
her ordinances and utterances, cries, " Come, come !" 
And the Church above, with the rustling of white robes, 



THE GOSPEL CALL. 



89 



and the sweeping of golden harps, cries, " Come, come !" 
And the angels of heaven, lo ! rank above rank, the im- 
mortal Principalities, as they circle the eternal throne, 
they have caught up the sound, and cry, " Come, come !" 
And the Triune and Everlasting God — the Father, the 
elder Brother, the almighty Comforter — says, " Come, 
come !" And, behold, the battlements of the fair city 
are thronged with a great crowd of witnesses ; and upon 
the ear of every fainting, dying soul in this earthly 
wilderness, breaks the glad call of the rejoicing universe, 
" Come, come, come !" " And the Sjririt and the Bride 
say, Come; and let him that hear eth say, Come; and let 
him that is athirst come, and whosoever will, let him take 
the water of life freely ! " 

Would to God I could make this matter of the fullness 
and freeness of salvation clear to you ! We often meet 
men, in these times of revival,*who, agonizing under 
convictions of sin, ask the prayers of God's people in 
their behalf, while they persistently refuse to believe in 
Christ Jesus. And what is it they wish us to pray for ? 
What is it they would have God do for them ? Why, 
look! There is a gushing fountain in the wilderness. 
And close by the well-side kneels a poor, thirsting pil- 
grim, doing what? Drinking? No, indeed. But 
praying Almighty Grace to quench his death-thirst ! 
" Oh," he says, " men and brethren, pray for me that 
God will take away my great anguish !'• But what says 
his God ? " Come, come, come, take the water of life 
freely." 

And then other convicted sinners come to us saying — 
" Oh, sir, I can not understand these doctrines of the 
Atonement, of Faith, of Repentance. Explain them. 



90 



TEE GOSPEL CALL. 



Explain them." As if a poor thirst-stricken man, by a 
sparkling spring should say, " Oh, tell me, tell me, what 
this water is made of, and how it came here in the hot 
wilderness, and why it is offered to me, and how can it 
quench my intolerable agony?" Alas, poor foolish 
questioner ! let the philosophy of salvation alone. Come, 
drink — drink — drink of the living water. 

" Come, take the water of life freely." Oh, what a 
precious and glorious call this ! " The water of life /" 
Who can tell us all its meaning ? " Water — water !" 
How sweet the sound to a fainting pilgrim ! " Water — 
water !" How 

"It cooleth the lip, it cooleth the brain, 
It raaketh the sick one well again." 

A fountain of water ! Not a poor reservoir, stag- 
nant and hot — but a living fountain, with its green banks 
and bright palms. How sweet to the sun-struck wan- 
derer, as it bursts in sparkling freshness in the midst of 
the desert ! 

A fountain of the water of Life — Life. Life physi- 
cal, spiritual, immortal, eternal. Oh, that glorious vision 
of John ! — " A pure river of the water of life, clear as 
crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the 
Lamb. And on either side of the river, the tree of life, 
which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit 
every month, and the leaves of the tree were for the 
healing of the nations !" 

Oh, what means it ?— " The Water of Life /" Tell us, 
ye bright ones ! Ye risen spirits before the throne ! Ye 
ransomed, out of every tongue, and tribe, and kindred, 
and people ! Ye that walk the green pastures, beside 



THE GOSPEL CALL. 



91 



the still waters ! Tell us what it means — " The Water of 
Life." 

Dear, dying fellow-sinners, why stay ye from the 
fountain ? Why do you talk of future times, and con- 
venient seasons ? How marvelous to procrastinate the 
thirst-quenching ! To say, " I am in love with my 
agony ; let me pant and pine a little longer !" 

Oh no, no, no! Come to-day — come this moment — 
come just as you are ! Oh, for an angel's voice to utter 
the call fittingly! You are poor prodigals in a far 
country — come home ! come home t 

You are wanderers in a desert — athirst, imperiled, 
doomed, death-struck ! And here, behold ! — the palms 
wave — the rock is smitten — the bright streams mur- 
mur and sparkle. Come, then, this moment, just as you 
are ! Come, come, come — " Come take the water of 
life freely !" 



DEVELOPMENT AND DISCIPLINE. 



" TJie Lord thy God led thee these forty years in the wilderness, to 
humble thee, and to prove thee, to knmv what was in thine heart." — Deu- 
teronomy, viii. 2. 

You are already, I doubt not, quite prepared to re- 
gard the Israelites as a typical people ; and the history 
of that nation as a figurative, or prophetic, record, 
sketching in parable much that does and will befall the 
Church in general, and its individual members in partic- 
ular — and are thus prepared to consider the words of 
the text as having a practical application to ourselves. 
But in the use of all such scriptures we are to bear in mind 
these rules of symbolic interpretation — that frequently 
there is more in the type than in its antitype — and that 
in the study of parables and symbols, we are not to look* 
for too minute an accommodation of their every part to 
the spiritual truth they inculcate. The Hebrew Exodus 
is undoubtedly an emblem of a Christian's condition in 
this world in progress toward heaven. And yet, if ex- 
amined too curiously, a thousand incongruities will appear, 
which must not be insisted on. Here, as elsewhere, the 
figure is designed to illustrate some particular truth, 
and there are many things in the type which will not be 



DISCIPLINE. 



93 



found in the antitype, and as well, many things in the 
antitype which are not set forth in the type. 

Now the point of comparison brought to view in the 
text, is between God's treatment of the Israelites in the 
wilderness, and his treatment of his peculiar people — or 
if you please of all mankind — in this world of probation. 
And keeping in mind the principles of interpretation 
just adverted to, let us consider the record of the text 
as containing truth for our own personal and practical 
application. 

It is confessedly a strange and unexpected narrative, 
which Moses gives of the wanderings of the Israelites. 
From the land of Goshen to the promised Canaan there 
was, through Kir, a direct way of journeying. But in- 
stead of pursuing it, they were commanded to turn and 
go through the wilderness of Paran. Nor this the whole 
wonder, for even following this circuitous route, it was 
not so protracted an Exodus from the Nile to the Jor- 
dan. Studying the journals of later Oriental tourists 
who have crossed the desert in the way of the Israelites, 
you find them leaving the Red Sea in the middle of 
March, and though traveling with scholarly leisure and 
research, yet in the middle of April — only a single month 
from their departure, they have set foot in the Garden 
of Gethsemane and the streets of Jerusalem. And yet 
you find these Israelites, under the Divine direction, in- 
stead of proceeding steadily, if slowly, toward Canaan, 
frequently retracing their steps, and revisiting the same 
places, and wandering about in the wilderness for full 
forty years. And it is a strange record ; to be under- 
stood only on the supposition that on their departure 
from Egypt, the people were not prepared for the inhab- 



94 



LEVEL OP ME NT. 



itation of Canaan, and that therefore God kept them in 
the Exodus, as in a condition of pupilage and discipline, 
for the civil and ecclesiastical state to which he had des- 
tined them. 

The Israelites, while in bondage in Egypt, were 
largely" at least barbarian and idolatrous. And from 
the miraculous plagues by the Nile, to the miraculous 
passage of the Jordan, God was constantly teaching 
them those theological and moral truths, without 
which they could not have entered fittingly upon 
either the civil, or ecclesiastical, immunities of Canaan. 
And these wanderings in the wilderness were pro- 
longed, not because Canaan was so distant, but only 
as a discipline preparatory to its citizenship. In the 
expressive language of the text, " The Lord led them 
forty years in the loilderness to humble them, and 
prove them, and know what was in their Jieart.^ 

Now in fine parallel to this, is God's treatment 
of all Christians, as the true Spiritual Israel. When 
called, by omnipotent and renewing grace from the 
Egypt of sinful bondage, they have at once a sure 
promise of a glorious inheritance in the heavenly 
Canaan. But, instead of being translated at first to 
its beatitudes, they are left wanderers for long years 
in this earthly wilderness. And although this seems 
to us, at first, a strange dispensation ; and we should, 
a priori, expect, that the justified one, having by 
reason of his union with Christ a perfect title to 
heaven, would, as soon as he is justified, be trans- 
lated to blessedness and instantly glorified: yet here, 
as in the case of Israel, the arrangement is explained 
in the text. God keeps the soul in this wilderness- 



DISCIPLINE. 



95 



state, 11 to humble it, and to prove it, and to knovj what 
is in the heart." 

This, then, is the simple thought with which we 
would engage your attention. There are, you per- 
ceive, two distinct moral processes indicated in the 
text. A process of Discovery, and a process of Disci- 
pline. Let us consider them in their order. 

First. — We have here, God's providential treatment 
of men in this world set forth, as a process of Dis- 
covery. " God led them forty years in the wilderness to 
prove them, and to know what was in their heart." 

And here the reference of the text is to all men in 
this state of probation. Of the Israelites, all were not 
God's true children, and millions were proved by the 
trial unworthy Canaan, and perished in the wilderness. 
And so now is it true of every man, whether Christian, 
or infidel, that God leads him in this wilderness-state 
" to know what is in him.'''' Not, indeed, that God 
himself has need of the manifestation. But that the 
development of the man's secret character, may either 
convince him of sin, and so lead him to repentance ; 
or make manifest to a universe the justice of his final 
condemnation. To the eye of Omniscience, that latent 
and hidden principle of evil, which in the human 
heart lies back of all action, yea, back of all volition, 
is sin, most positive and deserving of punishment. 
But that this principle may appear unto finite com- 
prehension in all its actual enormity; or in apostolic 
language, " that sin by the law may become exceeding 
sinful" — the man is brought into circumstances, quick- 
ening the dormant principle into action, and making 
manifest its true nature. 



96 



BE VE LOP ME XT. 



Before trial, men do not suspect the evil that is in 
others, nay, do not suspect even the evil that is in 
themselves. Hazael uttered only the honest indigna- 
tion of his heart, when to the man of God, foreseeing 
his future iniquity, he returned the question in sorrow 
and scorn, — "Is thy servant a dog that he should do this 
great thing ?" The evil principle sleeps in the spirit, as 
the Egyptian monster in the placid waters of the Nile. 
And it is only the hot sun, or the sweep of the fierce 
tempest that can draw, or drive, it forth in its malig- 
nant manifestations to the eyes of creation. So it was 
with the Israelites. God tried them with mercies and 
tried them with afflictions. He led them to the bitter 
waters of Marah, and Jeshuran murmured. He made 
them to ride on the high places of the earth, and eat the 
increase of the fields, and drink the blood of Eschol's 
grapes, — and Jeshuran waxed fat and kicked. And 
so it is ever. God is trying every human* heart, that 
the world may know what forms of evil abide in its 
chambers. And the variety of trials is as great as the 
variety of our circumstances. He tries with blessings. 
The poor man, who by board and hearth in his lowly 
cottage, seems such a godly despiser of the pomps 
and vanities of this evil world ; him, God raises 
suddenly into the possession of great riches : and lo ! 
out of that dwelling of poverty, stalks, at the Divine 
summons, the bio-o-est and most unblushing demon of 
pride and worldliness ! He tries with affliction. He 
comes to the man rich and prosperous, and happy, and 
surrounded by a household which death has never 
entered, and whose heart seems full of grateful love to 
Jehovah, and with one breath of disastrous provi- 



DISCIPLINE. 



97 



dence, drives the bark of earthly joy shattered and 
shipwrecked on the wild water, — and lo ! forth- from 
that heart where Angel Piety seemed to dwell, stalks 
now a mighty fiend of ingratitude and rebellion. 

Under God's providential economy, earthly and 
practical life is but practical development. Man's 
business on this sublunary platform, is to work out his 
hidden character in the face of the universe, — to make 
manifest his secret thoughts even in forms of ma- 
terialism. The fashion of the man's garments ; the 
furniture of his dwelling; the pictures he hangs upon 
his walls ; the volumes he places in his library ; the 
places of his favorite recreation ; the style of men 
with whom he delights to associate ; yea, his very 
port and bearing as he mingles with men, and walks 
in the market-place, — are all but the development, — the 
visible expression, of tire quality of the thoughts and 
intents of the heart. And this practical manifestation 
of character in life, is with a great Divine purpose. 
In the case of the Israelites, it was to show who, of 
the wanderers in the Exodus, were proper men to go 
over to Canaan. And in our case, it is to show, who 
of these dwellers upon earth, are becoming meet for 
the heavenly inheritance. Not that God needs to 
learn this, but that he would have his universe know, 
that he is just when he judges, and clear when he 
condemns. 

And this, this is life ! The development in actual forms 
of the hidden things of the spirit ! This making known 
to a universe what there is in the heart ! Oh, then, how 
awfully solemn a thing it is to live, — just to live ! Why, 
sirs, what were you doing yesterday ? " Busy with the 
5 



9S 



DEVEL OP MEN T. 



merchantmen in the market-place," you say. No, but 
you were exhibiting your principles of honor, or dishon- 
esty, to a great cloud of witnesses, in preparation for the 
judgment! "Furnishing a house," you say. No, but 
you were filling your chambers and ornamenting your 
walls with outward expressions of your inner moral na- 
ture ! '* Chiseling the marble," or " coloring the can- 
vas," you say. No, you were carving your own moral 
statue, and painting your own moral portrait, for exhibi- 
tion at the judgment. " Adorning your person for some 
fashionable assembly," you say, or " sweeping sounds of 
rich music from the chords of an instrument." No, no, 
you were flaunting your immortal drapery on life's plat- 
form, a spectacle to angels — or sounding forth the har- 
monies or discords of your moral life, in the audience- 
room of Eternity. 

Ah, life — earthly life is a thing fearfully solemn ! What 
were these Israelites doing, in these long years of Exodus 
in the wilderness ? Eating, and drinking, and marching 
backward and forward, and pitching the tent for rest, 
and the tabernacle for worship ? Yes, indeed ; but the 
while, doing all this for the great purpose of develop- 
ment ! Working out, in manifest forms and expressions, 
those inner iniquities of the heart that unfitted them 
for Canaan. And, alas ! alas ! the million graves that 
marked the march of the Exodus, made manifest how 
fearfully all this development was unto condemnation : 
and to what multitudes God swore in his wrath that they 
should not enter in, because they believed not. Yes, that 
Exodus was a solemn journey. Nor is our life less sol- 
emn. Think of it! "A spectacle to angels ! Compassed 
about with a great cloud of witnesses /" And so upon 



DISCIPLINE. 



99 



earth, as a platform flung up in the midst of creation, 
man walks to exhibit himself in the eyes of the universe. 
And as each feature of his character is displayed, the 
pencil of the Eternal Limner transfers it to the immortal 
canvas, and clearer at every moment of life grows the 
expression, and stronger the resemblance ; till finished 
at last, and perfect, as the portraiture of the hidden char- 
acter, it receives the judgment of the universe, whether, 
in its resemblance to God and the angels, it deserves a 
place on the lustrous walls of the Eternal Temple — or, in 
its dark coloring, and distorted and demoniac expression, 
it beseem rather the prison of despair, and should be 
shadowed with the blackness of darkness for ever and 
ever ! 

Now this is the first thought — God's providential 
treatment of man in this tcorld, a process of development 
and discovery. — " He leads them in the wilderness to 
prove them, and to know what is in the heart." 

And it brings us to consider, Secondly — This other 
providential design — A process of Discipline — " The 
Lord God led them forty years in the wilderness to 
humble them." 

Here by a common scriptural figure, the great grace of 
humility, is put metonymically for all the distinguish- 
ing graces of Christian character. And the meaning is : 
that God led them about in the wilderness, as in a state of 
•pupilage and preparation, for the civil and ecclesiastical 
immunities of Canaan. This was true, indeed, in regard 
to the very multitude that perished in the wilderness. 
The grand purpose even in that process of development, 
was to show each man's character to himself that he 
might seek, by repentance, pardon and sanctification. 



100 



BEVEL OP KENT. 



But it was especially true of them who, prepared by 
long wanderings, crossed at last the Jordan and entered 
the land of promise. And so in its spiritual reference, 
the application of this thought is specially to the case of 
the real believer, who by daily sanctification is becom- 
ing more and more meet for heaven. 

As before observed, it seems, a priori, a strange dis- 
pensation, that'the soul of the justified man is not taken 
at its repentance immediately, and directly to the celes- 
tial world. Nor is the mysteriousness of these earthly 
trials diminished by the answer — that the Christian must 
remain in this world for the sake of other men, as "the 
light," and " the salt," of lost and dying generations. If 
Israel must pass forty years in seclusion and pupilage 
for a citizenship in Canaan, still, we should so have 
ordered it, that, instead of repeatedly traversing those 
plains, with their burning sands and their fiery serpents, 
they should have pitched their tents for permanent en- 
campment in some of those fertile valleys — green with 
pastures, and shadowy and sweet with palm groves and 
fountains, — which lay at not remote intervals between 
the Nile and the Jordan. And just so in the case of the 
believer. If the justified man in Christ must remain 
still in this world as a benefit to others ; we should yet 
so have ordered it, that his life had been all peaceful 
and rapturous in the smiles of his God. But not thus 
Jehovah. God led Israel almost constantly amid the 
dry and desolate tracts of the wilderness. And God, 
in *his analogous treatment of believers, subjects the 
justified soul to a constant vicissitude of temptation and 
affliction. 

And the reason of this arrangement is set forth in the 



DISCIPLINE. 



101 



text. He does it to work in the soul a meetness for the 
heavenly Canaan. And in illustrating this thought, we 
only ask you to observe, — how earthly trials and afflic- 
tion are the finest means of sanctifieation. You per- 
ceive, at once, in the case of the Israelites, that if God 
had allowed them to pitch a permanent encampment, 
in some fair oasis of the desert, then, instead of becom- 
ing more humble, they would have waxed worse and 
worse in arrogance and carnality. And it needed the 
burning sun, and the hot sand, and the fiery serpents, 
and the constant assaults of the fierce men of Amalek 
and Moab, to humble them before God, and make them 
meet for a citizenship in the Theocracy of Canaan. 
And so of Christians on earth, — a moment's considera- 
tion will show you, how afflictions are after all the 
finest discipline of sanctifieation. For consider, in 
illustration, the influence of earthly trials on a few 
separate Christian graces. 

Take, first. As a principle lying at the foundation 
of all Christian character, — That filial faith, or implicit 
trust in God, — which must become perfect in the soul 
before it enters heaven. And tell me how such a grace 
can thrive well in a condition of uninterrupted pros- 
perity ? Here is my rich brother, whose coffers are 
full of gold, and whose mansion is crowded with all 
luxuriant things ; and can he trust strongly in God 
for food and raiment ? Can he gather his children 
round his family altar, and utter sincerely and trust- 
fully that filial prayer, " Give us this day our daily 
bread?" Ah, no, indeed! Bread is already his for a 
long life-time ; and raiment, and shelter, and all things. 
He trusts to his stocks, and mortgages, and houses on 



102 



DEVELOPMENT. 



rent, and money on interest ! But there lives a poor 
widow in yonder desolate chamber, rich only in faith 
and God's magnificent promises. Yesternight she gave 
her last poor morsel — and blanket, to her suffering child ! 
and forgot her own hunger and cold over her worn and 
tear-blotted Bible ; and when a visitor crossed her thresh- 
old, and dropped a coin into her trembling hand — as 
if an angel had been sent directly from God, to answer 
her prayer — she lifted her streaming eyes to heaven 
and cried, " Thanks, thanks, to my heavenly Father ; 
he hath heard ; he hath answered ; oh, my child will 
not die now. My Father, my Father gives me daily 
bread !" Ah me ! This beautiful trust in God grows 
not like the palm-tree, in green valleys, and by sweet 
waters. It needs, like God's cedars, the icy rocks of the 
mountain-top, and the fierce rush of the storm ! 

Or, take, secondly, — That supreme love to God, — 
which constitutes the very essence of holiness, and the 
very element of heaven. And observe, how it thrives 
best under a discipline of affliction. It would seem, 
indeed, a priori, that prosperity, and untroubled happi- 
ness, were the finest circumstances for this grace's de- 
velopment. And so they would be were man an un- 
fallen being. For then, love would have a direct 
tendency to beget love ; and the more fair and un- 
clouded our path, the more intense would be our 
affection to the beneficent Father, whose strong hand 
was guiding us. But, alas ! man is not unfallen. And 
amid the principles of his accursed nature, grow the 
rank tares of supreme selfishness. And, as a superin- 
duced grace of miraculous implantation, supreme love 
of God — born of bright skies and balmy seasons — which 



DISCIPLINE. 



103 



even the most selfish heart cherishes ; for it is only self- 
love under heavenly disguises. We love ourselves, and 
so think we love all things that tend to our own happi- 
ness ; and so long as God, with all his great attributes, 
seems busy only for our good, we perhaps think we love 
him. But do we though ? Yonder sits a mother sur- 
rounded by her children. God has dealt with her most 
gently. Death has made no vacant place in her house- 
hold, and her heart swells in maternal pride of her fair 
daughters, and her stately sons. And amid the sweet 
ministries of her home, maternal affection seems almost 
sanctified into religion ; and with an exuberant thank- 
fulness to that Almighty One, who hath so preserved 
her idols, she would repel you in anger, should you dare 
to question her true love to God. She would say — " I 
not love God ! Oh, how can I do otherwise than love 
him ? So good ; so abundantly merciful he is to me 
and my beloved ones !" But does she love God though ? 
Alas ! go down to the last analysis of those affections, 
till you understand them in their true character ; as they 
seem to the creatures of eternity, and what will you 
find there ? Love to God ? Ah, no ! Nothing loftier 
or holier than the veriest idolatry. A lifting the crea- 
ture into the place of the Creator. For just let the 
great God come as a sovereign into that glad household ; 
let him breathe witheringly upon those beloved ones ; 
let him bring the shadow upon that bright eye, and the 
palsy upon that bounding heart ; and lay that child from 
her bosom' to the dark and pitiless grave, and then, ah 
me ! how soon that mother's love will rise up in rebel- 
lion. " Oh, unkind Providence !" she will cry — " Oh, 
ruthless, heartless, malignant monster, Death !" And in 



104: 



DE VELOPMEKT. 



all this she pours forth anathemas against the glorious 
Jehovah. Ah, no ; true lore to God is of a different cul- 
ture, and a different manifestation. 

See that Christian mother hj her dead child. She, too, 
has in all its depth and tenderness a mother's love. And 
that child's sweet voice and winning ways were all that 
made life blest in her lone and desolate dwelling. Alas, 
he to die ! That child, whose smile was as the smile of 
an angel on her path to eternity ! He to turn away from 
her clasping arms, and lie down in the cold, dark, unpity- 
ing sepulchre ! Bui he hath died! Alas, he will never 
smile on her again ! . Never say, " Mother," — " mother," 
again ! Yet see the mother now ! Weeping ? Yes, in- 
deed — why should she not weep ? Her glorious and di- 
vine Saviour wept at the beloved grave ! But with all 
a mother's love, there is all a Christian's faith. With 
her tearful eyes lifted heavenward, hark to her trustful 
words ! — " Oh, he said it — the blessed Master said it — 
' Suffer little children to come unto me? Yes, my child 
has gone to heaven. My lamb is on the Shepherd's 
bosom— the Lord gave and the Lord taketh away — 
blessed, blessed, blessed be the name of the Lord !" And 
this is true love to God. A love swallowing up every 
earthly emotion, as the rivers are swallowed up by the 
sea. A heavenly plant of grace, that grows not well 
amid peaceful encampments, in valleys of sweet water : 
but needs for its highest culture, the barren plains of the 
desert, with sands and serpents — the wild sweep of the 
storm, and the fierce assault of armed enemies ! 

Or take, thirdly, — That gracious deadness to the world, 
and patient longing for heaven, — which, in apostolic ex- 
perience, and indeed in all true Christian experience, is 



DISCIPLINE. 



105 



the last and crowning meetness for the heavenly dwell- 
ing ; and, observe, how it can scarcely be wrought at all 
in the soul, save by the discipline of affliction. In the 
case of the Israelites, at their first entrance upon the 
Exodus ; and indeed afterward, and far on in their jour- 
neys, we find them looking back with strong desire to 
the carnal joys of Egypt. And had God allowed them 
to pitch permanent encampment in some bright valley 
of palm-trees, then, still more and more, had they shrunk 
from the dread swellings of the Jordan, and the unknown 
and undiscovered land beyond ; and it was only at the 
close of forty years of pilgrim wanderings, amid the pri- 
vations and dangers of that wild and howling wilder- 
ness, that the tried hearts of the people yearned with a 
mighty homesickness, for an establishment in the civil 
and ecclesiastical economy of a Canaan of rest. And so 
it is with the Christian. Faith, however vigorous its 
exercise in the heart of a believer, is yet not the positive 
reality, but only the philosophic evidence, of things un- 
seen and but hoped for ; and against it, things seen and 
temporal are arrayed in a sensible and present power, 
antagonistic and overwhelming. And God's method of 
strengthening the faith, till the unseen becomes more 
than an equipoise for the sensible — is not, by bringing 
out the things of eternity in positive and visible splen- 
dor in heaven ; but by beclouding, and so weakening, 
the rival glories of time. Just as in the material uni- 
verse, it is not by making the heavenly really more lus- 
trous, but only by bringing night over the earthly, that 
God brings out the stars. 

Here is a man — it may be truly a Christian — whose 
earthly life is full of gladness and glory: his dwelling is 
5* 



105 



DEVELOPMENT. 



a palace ; his name is a power in the land's language ; 
fair and fond children love him ; honorable men honor 
him ; no corroding sorrow tortures his heart ; no insatiate 
ambition embitters his life-spring ; a happy and a joyous 
man he is on the earth. Now, though this man may be 
truly a Christian, he is not ready to die. So rich and fair 
in its coloring, falls round him this massive curtain of 
things temporal, that even the revealed lustres of 
Eternity shine but faintly through ; and if the fire- 
car, that came for Enoch, and Elijah, should descend 
visibly to his portal, oh ! it would be almost with the 
recoil of a breaking heart, that he looked the last on his 
princely possessions, and said " farewell " to his beloved 
household; and flung the reins loose on the winged 
coursers ; turning his face forever from the earthly, 
and rushing up to the skies. 

But now, in the contrast, look yonder. In that 
cold and comfortless hovel lives a poor and friendless 
man. Poor and friendless through no fault of his own ; 
for, to the eye of God's angels, that hoary head is a 
crown of glory. But from plenty and gladness God's 
mysterious Providence has stricken him as with a thun- 
derbolt. His, too, were once a jfrincely home, and 
stately children, that would have shed their heart's 
blood as water ere a father so honored should have 
been left thus in want. But, alas ! they are now in 
the grave. And with no hand to guard, and no eye to 
watch, he is friendless and alone. But, come near and 
talk with him, if you would learn the mighty power of 
sorrow to sanctify. "Ah, my old friend, this is a hard 
lot of yours, is it not ?" " Hard ! hard ! Oh, no, no !" 
he says. " It is enough for the disciple that he be as 



DISCIPLINE. 



107 



his Master, and my blessed Redeemer had not where to 
lay his head. Yes, and it will be over soon. A little 
longer, and the desert will be crossed, and then the 
Canaan !" " And so you are thinking of heaven, and 
are willing to depart ?" " Willing !" he says, " willing ! 
willing to be with the beloved dead, and the more 
beloved Jesus ! Willing ! Why there is not a thing 
now between me and my Saviour ! I am athirst for the 
living water ! I am homesick for glory ! Come, come, 
come, Lord Jesus, come quickly !" Yes, yes, my breth- 
ren, it is thus God sanctifies — he takes away the earthly 
that the heart may rise to the heavenly. He tears the 
bark from its mortal moorings, that it may launch forth 
toward the eternal haven. He stirs up the nest of the 
slumberous eagle, that with exulting pinion, it may soar 
to the sun ! 

This, this is the gracious mystery of true heavenly- 
raindedness ! It was when surrounded by enemies, 
thirsting for his blood, that Stephen saw heaven open ! 
It was in the depth of the -ZEgean poverty and exile, 
that John beheld the glory of the sweeping trains along 
the golden streets of the City of Holiness ! It was upon 
the red sands of the Roman arena, when weighed down 
with fetters, and faint from lonely imprisonment, and 
surrounded by infuriated heathen, and wild beasts of the 
amphitheatre, that the voice of Paul rang out, with the 
exultation of more than a conqueror — enraptured with 
the good fight he had fought, and the crown of glory 
thenceforth laid up for him. 

Yes, my brethren — this desire to depart, and be with 
Christ, is a crowning grace, that grows not, like the 
palm-tree, in the green valleys, where rejoicing pilgrims 



108 



DEVELOPMENT. 



pitch tent in the wilderness, but rather like God's great 
cedars, it needs the sweep of the hurricane, and the icy 
rocks of Mount Lebanon. Like the rainbow round the 
head of the mighty angel, it comes not forth in its 
brightness along the heaven's pure azure, but needs 
for its more lustrous glory a background of cloud ! 

Now, this is the other thought of the text. GocVs 
Providential treatment of men in this world, a process 
of Discipline. " He led them forty years in the loilder- 
ness to humble them." And how rich the lesson in its 
consolation to the real believer ! Those Israelites under- 
stood it at last, when, as conquerors and more than con- 
querors, they went over Jordan — how much they had 
needed the stern pupilage of the Exodus, to prepare 
them for the civil and ecclesiastical beatitudes unto 
which God was leading them. And though at first it 
seemed strange that, instead of advancing by rapid 
and direct marches to the promised land, they should 
thus wander for long years amid the sands of the desert, 
yet, from the green fields and glorious cities of Canaan^ 
they looked back with rapture and love, " remembering 
all the way the Lord their God had led them.''' 1 

And just so of the Christian. It seems strange in- 
deed sometimes, that, at the first moment of repentance 
and pardon, the justified soul is not taken to glory. 
But we shall see it by and by, and we ought to see it 
presently — that, as spirits under discipline for the dif- 
ferent allotments of heaven, more precious to us is this 
pilgrimage, with its poor scrip and its worn sandal, than 
the instant fire-car of the prophet to translate us to the 
skies. There are distinctions in the conditions of the 
redeemed in eternity — harps of a more amazing power 



DISCIPLINE, 



109 



— and sceptres of a wider sway — and stations nearer in 
honor to the throne of our God ! And this weari- 
some pilgrimage on earth is but a continuance on that 
wrestling arena, where every successful struggle adds 
to the fair and goodly things that make up eternity. 
These tears wrung from the weeping eye, and these 
blossoms torn from the heart, are to be set as rare gems, 
and woven as rich flowers, in our heavenly crowns of 
rejoicing. And who wonders longer at the triumph of 
the great apostle in view of afflictions? From the 
midst of persecutions, and conflict, and agonies, such as 
had been borne by no other mortal, he had been caught 
away to stand for a moment amid the great realities of 
heaven — to hear the unspeakable words — to compass the 
amazing issues of present sufferings, in the ineffable 
glories of eternity ! And borne back again to the 
scenes of his earthly trial ; so very a trifle seemed it 
all, in contrast with the eternal triumph, that upon all 
these persecutions, and agonies, and deaths, he looked 
calmly down, saying, as if they were unworthy the 
reckoning — as if they were nothing — "These light afflic- 
tions, which are hut for a moment" — and then lifting his 
flashing eyes upward, cried in exulting gladness — "The 
glory !" — "The weight of glory !" — "The exceeding 
weight of glory /" — "The far more exceeding toeight of 
glory /" — "The far more exceeding and eternal toeight 
of glory/" — ay — ay — and those amazing triumphs, the 
residt of these trials ! In the beneficent process of God's 
gracious economy, "These light afflictions, which are but 
for a moment, working out for us the far more exceed- 
ing and eternal weight of glory /" 

Oh, I understand it now — what the apostle meant 



110 



BETEL OPULENT. 



when, exulting! y, " he counted all things as loss that he 
might attain unto the fellowship of Christ's sufferings," 
— mark you! — not the fellowship of his triumph; but 
the fellowship of — his sufferings. And understanding 
this — in these few years of earthly preparation, I would 
not barter this framework, with its aching head and bur- 
dened heart, for the form of immortality and power that 
shall spring from the Resurrection. And I would not 
exchange my mortal right to share my Master's sorrows 
— to bear his heavy cross — to wear his piercing thorn 
crown — to drink of his cup, and be baptized with his 
baptism — not for all the pomps and powers of the 
archangel ! Yes — yes — from those high hills of glory — 
whereon, with the palm and white robe, the earthly pil- 
grim rests from his labor — blessed, oh ! how unspeakably 
blessed ! it will be to look back along the path of the 
Exodus, " and remember all the way that the Lord our 
God led us in the wilderness, to humble us, and to prove 
us, and to know what toas in the heart." 

And wonder not, then, my impenitent hearer, that, 
though our way lies through a wilderness, we should 
still urge you, with many tears, to take scrip and staff 
and go with us on pilgrimage ! If this spiritual Exodus 
were as joyless and terrible as your sinful fears make it, 
still we tell you, that the bright lands of eternity lie across 
this desert, and can only be reached by him that girdeth 
strongly the loins, and goes forth on the pilgrimage. But 
then, as of the Hebrew Exodus, so of the spiritual — there 
is no wider mistake than to suppose that the wilderness 
is only a barren plain, covered with sand, and swarming 
with serpents — no, thanks be to God ! thickly bestudding 
both, are fair and fertile spots in the desert, where the 



DISCIPLINE. 



Ill 



grass is soft and green around sunny fountains, and 
the birds warble, and the palm-trees wave ! — and alike in 
both, there rise along the pilgrim's pathway, landscapes 
of surpassing grandeur, where the flashing torrents wind 
through the passes, and the mountains pierce the heavens 
with their cloud-crowned summits. Yea, and in those 
tracts where the pathway is most wild — where the sands 
are hot, and the serpent hisses, and the sun pours his 
fierce beams on the weary pilgrim — even there, our 
march is not comfortless. For along the desert sand 
falls the heavenly manna — and fast by our side flows 
the living water — and steadfast in the van abides the 
Shechinah of glory — and then beyond ! — ah, beyond ! 
Canaan! Canaan, with its royal cities, and its thrones 
of power, and its diadems of glory ! Canaan ! Canaan 
as it burst upon the eye of Moses, making his dying hour 
a triumphal rapture from the heights of Pisgah ! Ca- 
naan ! Canaan! — that house of many mansions! — that 
home of the beloved dead ! — that dwelling-place of 
Jesus! — that glorious kingdom of God! Oh, Canaan, 
Canaan ! lies fair and bright before us — and this path 
through the desert is the only path that leads to its 
enrapturing inheritance. " Come with us, then, come 
with ics, and we will do you good /" 



SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 



"Knovj ye not your own selves.-'' — II. Corixthiaxs, xiii. 5. 

This question is exceedingly impressive as addressed to 
the Corinthians. They prided themselves in the Greek 
philosophy, and the very wisest of the precepts of that 
philosophy was — " Know thyself." Put to them, there- 
fore, the question expressed both irony and astonishment 
— astonishment, in view of their real self-ignorance — 
irony, in view of their pretentious philosophic self- 
knowledge. 

Pat to ourselves, the question may have less of irony, 
for we have little of the Greek pretension, but is express- 
ive of no less astonishment, for we have even more than 
Grecian self-ignorance. We do not know our own selves! 
A marvelous assertion, yet a true one. Physically, intel- 
lectually, morally, spiritually, most of men are to them- 
selves profound strangers. 

Physically, we are ignorant of ourselves. The human 
body is a living machine constructed for the use of a 
spiritual being. It is the most complex, and wonderful, 
and invaluable of all machines. And yet how little do 
most men know of it ! How ignorant oft-times are they 
of the simplest functions of the animal economy ! And 
in this ignorance it is not strange that they violate the 



SELF-KNO W L ED GE. 



113 



laws of health every day, and. fall victims to self-induced 
disease, which is suicide. If men thoroughly understood, 
and perfectly obeyed those laws of physical life, probably 
most of the race would attain to the full threescore and 
ten, or the fourscore years. 

How strange, then, nay, how sinful is this ignorance ! 
If a man think to keep time-pieces in order, or musical 
instruments in tune, he must spend years in a careful 
study of their mechanism. But parents pretend to take 
care of children, knowing no more of the laws of food, 
digestion, respiration, exercise — no more rf indeed, of the 
child's simplest animal functions, than the infant itself 
knows of the wheels of a watch, or the stops of an organ. 
And what marvel that so many children die in the first 
years of their being ? 

And so too of our maturer self-management, how sadly 
are we unprepared for a work so important. There is 
probably no man who hears me who would attempt the 
navigation of a steamship across the ocean. But the 
mechanism of that steamship is not half so wonderful, 
nor its management half so difficult, as of these human 
bodies floating on the seas of life. 

And if a hundred of these youths should attempt, each 
the navigation of such a vessel, probably fewer would be 
shipwrecked than will perish prematurely through self- 
ignorance; and more would reach trans-atlantic shores 
than will attain to the fourscore of a vigorous and 
healthy old age. 

True it is, we excuse our ignorance here by our well- 
grounded reliance on professional medical science. And 
the excuse would be good if we employed physicians to 
htep us in health, rather than to aid us in sickness. But, 



114 



SEL ■F-KjST 0 W L ED GE. 



alas, we run the noble vessel into wild currents, and 
amid rocks and quicksands; and then hoist signal-flag 
for the pilot, to work the poor imperiled bark into the 
open sea again ! Yerily this wide-spread ignorance of 
common physiological truth, as it has to* do with the 
conditions and functions of bodily health, is both shame- 
ful and sinful. 

Every being to whom God has kindly given a body, 
should know enough of the laws of food, exercise, respi- 
ration, digestion — enough, in a word, of the general prin- 
ciples of physiology — to preserve that body in its highest 
conditions of health and strength, till the machine is 
worn out in the fourscore years of a regulated and well- 
spent life. 

Nor less common and lamentable is our intellectual 
self-ignorance. Many men practically ignore their in- 
tellectual faculties. While only a few propound it phil- 
osophically, very many act on the theory, that bones, 
nerves, muscles, blood-vessels, brains, all make up a 
thinking and feeling machine, working only on chemical 
or mechanical principles. And their only self-culture 
consists in taking care of the body. Like the rich fool 
in the parable they think only of the stomach, even 
when they address words to the soul. 

Some men never think at all. All elaborate art, all 
abstruse and difficult science, all literature that exercises 
the higher faculties, yea, even the blessed Gospel, in its 
mission to the intellect, all seem to them burdensome. 
They live not amid thoughts, but amid feelings. Not 
only not cultivating mind, but almost unconscious of its 
possession. 

And even among those who recognize their intellectual 



SELF-KNO WLED GE. 



115 



nature, how strangely is it treated ! ISTo two minds are 
alike, and therefore no two minds should receive the 
same treatment. 

Here self-knowledge is essential to self-culture. We 
must discern the grand master-faculty of the soul, and 
give it adjustment as the central and controlling force in 
the system. As God designed every man to fill a par- 
ticular sphere, and do a particular work, so hath he 
equipped him with forces and faculties for that work and 
sphere. In all the prodigality of his fullness God never 
„ wastes implements or energies. He gives not wings to 
fishes that swim in water, nor fins to birds that .fly in air. 
Nor the more hath he vouchsafed a sensitive and soaring 
genius to a man designed to break stones on the road, 
nor a stolid and insensible patience to one formed for a 
great orator or poet. 

Everyman has his special intellectual gift, which often 
he does not discover till too late to develop and em- 
ploy to profit. And so he goes to the grave, instinct- 
ively dissatisfied with himself, as a mal-adjustment in 
the social system — not doing the great work God de- 
signed for him, because he has not perceived where his 
great strength lies, and is working altogether with his 
weaker and secondary faculties. And surely all this is 
shameful and sinful. Every man to whom God hath 
given an intellect, should have enough self-knowledge to 
understand thoroughly its peculiar powers, that, seeking 
intelligently those spheres and works for which God has 
equipped him, he may so live therein and labor, that mor- 
tal life shall not be a gloomy failure, but a glorious success. 

Meanwhile, quite as common, and even more lamenta- 
ble, is our moral self-ignorance. Our intellect mpy be 



116 



SELF- KX 0 W LED GE. 



symmetrically developed, and in vigorous exercise, while 
we have little knowledge or feeling of our moral condi- 
tion. And yet the desires, the affections, the will, the 
conscience — those principles which make up our moral 
constitution — should be, even more carefully than our 
bodily functions, objects of self-management. The evils 
of ignorance here are manifest both upon our comfort 
and our character. 

Self-knowledge on this point tends greatly to increase 
even our comfort. Of the passions and emotions which 
belong to our moral nature, some are naturally painful,* 
and some pleasurable in their exercise, and our earthly 
l^appiness depends upon quickening the play of those 
which give pleasure, and diminishing the power of those 
that give pain. Malice, envy, covetousness, injustice, 
cruelty, anger — these, and all that great class of feelings 
which we term the malevolent, are, in their very exer- 
cise, sources of wretchedness. Whereas, on the contrary, 
gentleness, forgiveness, charity, long-suffering, love — and 
that whole class of benevolent emotions to which they 
belong, do, by their very exercise, fill the spirit with 
gladness. And yet these simple cardinal facts of moral 
science how few men ever consider ! 

The soul of man has been compared to a dwelling of 
many apartments, and the man himself has been repre- 
sented as occupying mostly the rooms corresponding 
with his most exercised emotions. Now, in such a 
house, love may be supposed to have a fair banqueting 
hall — anger a cell dark and prison-like ; — faith and hope 
to have glorified chambers looking heavenward, and the 
lower passions to rage and raven like unblessed spirits 
in dungeons of gloom. And possessed of such a house, 



SELF-KNO W LEDGE. 



117 



how foolish were the man who should seldom enter, or 
positively and practically ignore those loftier- and love- 
lier pavilions of gladness — deliberately choosing to abide 
in the cell of envy, or the dungeon of anger, or the dark 
chamber cf impurity, rather than to sit at love's great 
banquet, or to recline in the pavilion where benevolence 
makes sweet music, or to ascend to the bright chamber 
of faith and hope, and look forth upon sun and star in 
heaven from their open casements. Surely, our happi- 
ness greatly depends upon understanding and rightly 
treating our moral nature. 

Meantime, of course, our character depends upon it. 
And verily, it is marvelous how little most men know 
morally of themselves ! Not that herein we have not 
adequate standards and powers to achieve a right judg- 
ment, for on these very points we judge other men cor- 
rectly. Probably in most cases the moral reputation a 
man sustains in a community gives the truth in regard 
of his moral character. If the world unite in calling 
him a good man, he probably is good. If it call him a 
bad man, he probably is bad. Even a wide-spread sus- 
picion of a man's dishonesty, or impurity, or untruthful- 
ness, is in most cases a shadow of some positive salient 
angle in his character. The eagle-eyed world looks 
keenly through all the hypocrisies and disguises of pre- 
tense, and reads aright the real elements of character. 

And yet, strange to say, few men understand rightly 
their own. And this, not because they can not, but be- 
cause they will not. They do not look carefully after 
those favorite, or easily besetting sins which color, yea, 
constitute character. In their superficial self-examination 
they do not carry God's lamp into the haunts and fast- 



118 



SELF- KX 0 WLEI) GE. 



nesses of their ruling propensities. The proud man 
looks after his covetousness — and the envious man looks 
after his dishonesty — and the impure man looks after 
his insincerity — each carefully perceiving, perhaps hon- 
estly confessing, some evil thing about him, which yet 
is not the controlling principle — the elementary evil of 
his character. And thus reading himself wrongly, he 
manages himself also wrongly. He is busy in destroying 
evil insects, while the serpent-sin grows strong — cutting- 
down thistles, and brambles, and thorns, while the oaks 
and cedars of iniquity shoot deep their strong roots, and 
spread wide their mighty branches. 

And surely all this is shameful and sinful. Every 
man, possessed of a moral nature, whose development 
must be into immense growths either of good or evil, 
should understand it thoroughly, that the flowers and 
fruits of its culture may be goodful and glorious. 

But beyond all this, and that which our text refers to 
especially, there is among men a lamentable spiritual self- 
ignorance. And on this point we wish particularly to 
dwell. We have just come from the sacramental com- 
munion, and are therefore in circumstances demanding 
special self-examination. Doubtless some of us were at 
that table who had no right to be there, and some of us 
were not at that table for whom the gracious Saviour 
kept a place in love. 

There are probably some here who think themselves 
Christians, but are not — and as probably there are others 
who are truly Christians, while they do not think them- 
selves such. Let us consider these two classes separately. 

First. — There are p>ersons who think themselves Chris- 
tians, but are not. Many men are really self-deceived. 



SELF-KN 0 WLEDGE. 



119 



Either encouraged and urged by injudicious friends, or 
relying on insufficient evidences, they have united 
with the people of God, although still unregenerate. 
Nevertheless such self-deception is altogether unneces- 
sary. Surely if there be any thing made plain in the 
Bible, it is the evidence of true Christian character. On 
this point the apostles express themselves most con- 
fidently. " I know" says Paul, " in whom I have 
believed." " We know" says John, " that we have passed 
from death unto life." " We know that we are in the 
truth." " We know that we dwell in him." Surely we 
may jjnow ourselves here as certainly as on any ques- 
tion of moral character. The evidences of regenera- 
tion are abundantly revealed, and so plainly that a child 
can understand and apply them. 

A true Christian loves God — loves the moral character 
of God — loves the very holiness of God — loves the very 
justice of God which condemns his iniquity. This love 
of God is something more than a natural gratitude for 
God's many mercies. It is a changed emotion toward 
God — new, filial, delightful. 

A true Christian believes in Christ — not merely with 
a speculative faith that he was a divine person, and 
died to save men ; but with a sweet and loving trust, 
seeing in him a beauty and preciousness as his Saviour, 
and casting himself unreservedly for salvation upon his 
glorious grace. 

A true Christian sincerely repents of sin. He enter- 
tains for it not merely a selfish legal sorrow, caused by 
a fear of its punishment, but he hates sin, self-con- 
sidered, on account of its own odious and evil nature. 

A true Christian loves the duties of religion. He does * 



120 



S ELF-EN 0 WLED GE. 



not indeed always enjoy them to the same degree. His 
Bible sometimes seems to him a sealed book, and prayer 
a barren ordinance. But that on the whole he finds 
pleasure in these things is as certain to himself as the 
gladness to his senses from the fair sights and sounds of 
the glorious creation. 

A true Christian loves his brethren. He loves them 
not so much for what they are in their station or them- 
selves, as because they are Christians. Because Christ 
loves them, and they love Christ. He delights in their 
company. He seeks to do them good. And he knows 
that he hath passed from death unto life because he 
loves the brethren. 

Now these are some of the more obvious evidences of 
regeneration. They might be greatly multiplied, but 
these are sufficient. If a man be certain that he has 
one positive Christian grace, he may be certain that he 
is a Christian, for the graces are not separable. How 
strange, then, is it that men should be self-deceived ! 
What marvel that Paul, in the text, treats this self- 
ignorance with solemn irony ! Surely a man may know, 
indeed must know, whether he love his parents, his 
wife, his children. And why may he not know as 
assuredly whether he loves God ! Yea — know more 
assuredly. For if he love God at all, it is a new love — 
a love taking the place of an old hatred — a love not 
natural but divinely implanted — a heavenly grace, as a 
fruit of the Spirit. 

Here, then, there seems indeed scarcely need of any 
moral analysis. In the winter time, it may require 
careful scrutiny to decide as to the life of a tree in your 
garden. But go forth in the warm, genial summer, and 



S E L F-KN 0 W LEDGE. 



121 



the veriest child beholding either its bare branches or its 
golden fruit can decide at once, and unhesitatingly. And 
so it is of Christian character. Are you bringing forth 
fruit meet for repentance — fruits unto godliness ? If so, 
you need not go down to the buried roots of grace 
in the heart, for by these fruits you may know your- 
selves. 

Surely on this point there need be no self-deception. 
If instead of ever feeling the spiritual j:)ulse, to discern 
mayhap, some feeble, fitful heart-beat — we spent our 
days in a vigorous culture of that spiritual life, making 
it luxuriant and fragrant with the bloom and aroma of 
all Christian graces, then there could remain no ground 
of question, for the difference between the converted 
and unconverted man would be as marked and marvel- 
ous, as between the living and the dead! Then no 
man could journey to eternity in fearful self-ignorance. 
No man, in the inspiration of a false hope, could lie 
down on a death-bed dreaming of heaven, and wake up 
in eternity outcast and lost. No man could realize 
in his own experience this fearful picture of revelation — 
of a spirit approaching with a bounding foot and a joy- 
ous heart the heavenly banqueting-house, — knocking 
hopefully at its glorious portal, and crying as if denial 
were impossible, " Lord, Lord, open unto us /" and yet 
be driven away with the fearful denunciation, " Depart ! 
Depart! I never knew you /" 

Surely men may know themselves. Surely they 
should. And yet alas, alas ! there are self-deceived pro- 
fessors in the Church of Christ. Dead corpses, wearing 
heavenly flowers and white raiment, at the board in the 
guest-chamber ! neither giving, nor having any true 
6 



122 



SELF-KNO WLEB GE. 



evidences of piety, though they may think themselves 
Christians. 

Meanwhile, secondly, there are doubtless some in the 
world, not members of the Church, nor thinking them- 
selves Christians, who are yet truly regenerate, and real 
children of God. The occasions and causes of this 
strange self-distrust are manifold. 

Sometimes it arises from a temperament constitution- 
ally gloomy. The man looks habitually on the dark 
side of every thing. Of course he may be exj)ected to 
look on the dark side of his own religious character. 
Even in regard of mortal and' earthly conditions, he 
turns away from sunshine to dwell in shadows, and of 
course his souVs tabernacle is ever pitched, not on the 
sunny hill-side, but in valleys of gloom. 

Then, sometimes this self-distrust is but a temporary 
result of bodily infirmity. A shattered nervous system, 
imperfect digestion, secretion, circulation — these things, 
and such as these, perform the functions, and assume the 
very character of an accusing conscience. And what 
the man wants to make him a hopeful and joyous Chris- 
tian, is bodily regimen and exercise, and not theological 
casuistry. You might as well exercise your logic upon 
dyspepsia, or rheumatism, or the toothache, as to reason 
such a spirit out of its religious despondency. The 
gloom results from physical condition ; and to physical 
condition, and not conscience, must the remedy be ap- 
plied. 

Sometimes, again, this self-distrust arises from an over- 
estimate of the particular manner, or circumstances of 
conversion. Having heard or read of some men's pecu- 
liar exercises in regeneration, wherein deep distress was 



SELF-KNO WLED GE. 



123 



followed by instantaneous and extravagant rapture, they 
will rest satisfied with nothing but just such an expe- 
rience. So they go heavily burdened and without hope. 
They can not tell the day nor the hour of a demonstrative 
regeneration. They can not even tell of any sermon, or 
text of Scripture, or special providence of God, which 
the Holy Ghost employed to arouse their attention to 
spiritual things. They can indeed perceive a decided, 
yea, a radical change in their own feelings and conduct. 
Things they once loved they now hate. Things they 
once did, they now shrink from. Herein " old things 
have passed away, and behold all things have become 
new." But the manner and manifestation of the change 
does not satisfy their conscience. As if it mattered how 
a blind man's eyes were opened, if he perfectly see ! or 
with what instrumentality of rope or life-boat the drown- 
ing man was saved, when he stands safe upon the shore ! 

Then, again, men sometimes are led into this self-dis- 
trust by assuming false tests and standards of Christian 
character. They entertain extravagant notions of the 
effects even of regeneration. They have read the reli- 
gious biographies of distinguished Christians — perhaps 
their own journals and diaries written in secret, but yet 
written to be published — pitiful skeleton-abridgments of 
the man's real history — minced and meagre epitomes of 
his veritable experience — wherein mention is often made 
of frames of deep humility, and strong faith, and ardent 
love — of exercises of repentance, and consolation, and 
rapture — of days of fasting and nights of prayer, as if 
life were uninterrupted in its wrapt communion with 
God. But wherein there is no mention at all of expe- 
riences as real and positive, of sinful thoughts and carnal 



124 



SELF-KNO W L ED GE. 



desires, and perhaps even of deeds flagrantly evil. And 
thus the humble man, finding in his own personal expe- 
rience so much of remaining corruption, and in this 
recorded experience of others, so little of any thing but 
high frames of godliness, turns away in despair, beguiled 
of all comforting hope by these men's pretentious dis- 
honesty in concealing their own manifold short-comings. 
I say their dishonesty — for while they may not have 
exaggerated their frames of piety, they have carefully 
suppressed all record of their carnal frames — giving only 
half a truth, which in effect and reality is a whole false- 
hood, leading men to believe that regeneration makes a 
man at once and positively an angel, and therefore to be 
satisfied with no evidences of piety short of an angel's 
flaming heart and up-soaring pinion ! 

Now, these are but specimens (and we have no limits 
for others) of the causes or occasions of self-distrust, 
whereby men genuinely converted to God are kept in 
despondency, and hindered from professing Christ before 
men. These, and all such causes, are included in one 
general one — not a want of sufficient evidence, but a 
wrong standard of judgment. The man does not go 
directly to the Bible to learn what, as exhibited either 
in its positive precepts, or its sainted biographies, are 
the true evidences of conversion. He takes counsel, 
rather, sometimes of his own morbidly sensitive con- 
science, and sometimes of men who live mainly in 
emotions. And he w T ill often urge as reasons why he 
can not believe himself a Christian, those very feelings 
and frames of mind which the Bible sets forth as the 
"fruits of the Spirit." 

These, then, are the two classes which the text con- 



. SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 125 

templates, as men who 11 know not their own selves;" — 
men self-deceived, who are not Christians — men self- 
distrustful, who are. 

And now, interrupting for the present this train of 
thought, let me close with some words of personal ex- 
hortation. 

First. — To the self-deceived, how earnestly "does the 
text appeal ! Beloved hearers, to be in the Church 
without piety is perhaps of all conditions on earth the 
most dreadful. Not? because false professors are more 
sinful than other men — though even this may be true, 
for the common human conscience will regard the sin 
of Judas as greater than that of Pilate — but because 
there is less hope of their conviction of sin, and, conse- 
quently, of their conversion, than if they had not found 
rest for a guilty conscience in a fair, though false, 
refuge. 

Let us, then, be willing " to know our own selves /" — 
to know the very worst of our character and "condition ! 
Surely we may be undeceived. The man who consciously 
delights even in secret iniquities — who feels in his heart 
that he is a dishonest man, or an untruthful man, or an 
impure man — who hath no delight in God's service and 
ordinances — who exhibits in his daily life none of the 
gracious fruits of the Spirit — that man may surely know 
that, however excited at times may be his emotions, 
"he is yet in the gall of bitterness and in the bond 
of iniquity." 

The whole Bible represents the visible Church as 
embracing many members who will finally be lost. 
We may really think ourselves Christians, and yet not 
be Christians. And here, as elsewhere, honesty of 



126 



SELF-EX 0 W L ED GE. 



opinion neither excuses its falseness, nor averts its fatal 
issues. Mistaken and misguided sincerity can not con- 
trol the mighty workings of God's government that are 
bearing him to destruction. If a man drink a poison- 
cup, thinking the draught living-water, still the hemlock 
will destroy him. If a man, really believing he can fly, 
fling himself from a precipice, he will yet none the less be 
dashed in pieces. A mistake as to the reality of per- 
sonal religion is absolutely fatal. It is the immortal spirit 
that drinks the deadly drug, and springs a suicide from 
the precipice. O God ! give us the wisdom that is 
willing to know the worst, so that if this day we are 
counted with the foolish virgins, we may at once flee 
unto the Redeemer for regenerating grace, and have oil 
for our lamps, ere the self-deceived soul be startled from 
dreams of heaven into everlasting despair by the mid- 
night cry that heralds the Bridegroom. 

Secondly. — The text speaks as earnestly to the self- 
distrustful— -those who have been truly converted, and 
have neither the confidence nor the comfort of the chil- 
dren of God, — those who really hate sin and love the 
Saviour, and yet, because they find a remaining carnality, 
a law of sin, in the members, warring with holiness ; or 
because they can not tell when or how they were con- 
verted, or do not experience the peculiar raptures which 
they have heard or read of in the lives of professing 
Christians, will see in themselves no evidence of con- 
version. These men the text exhorts unto hopeful self- 
knowledge. It sets forth faith, and not feeling, as the 
evidence of piety. 

Dear friends, your trust for salvation is not' in what 
you are, but what Christ is. If, with a penitent, and 



SELF-KJSfO WLED GE. 



127 



believing, and loving heart, you cast yourselves upon 
the Redeemer, then you know you are Christians ! 
For he says you shall "in no wise be cast out," and 
" shall never perish !" And thus " knowing your own 
selves," your place should be in Christ's visible Church. 
He commands you to enter it. His words to you are 
personal and explicit — "Do this in remembrance of me." 
And as these sacramental seasons go by, and you turn 
even sadly away from them — ah, me ! how you slight 
and grieve your gracious Redeemer ! You say practi- 
cally — and heaven, and earth, and hell give heed to the 
utterance, — you say, " IwiU not remember thee! Those 
tears — those blood-drops — those wounded hands, and head, 
and heart — those mighty dying agonies — oh, let their 
record perish ! Oh, let them be blotted forever from my 
memory !" 

And treating Jesus thus — though it be in honest self- 
distrust, yet a distrust that dishonors his loving-kindness 
— what marvel that he hides his face from you — that 
your hearts do not rise into rapture with the full hope 
of salvation ! 

Thirdly. — The text speaks most earnestly to the openly 
impenitent; men neither professing nor possessing Chris- 
tianity. In one sense, indeed, these men do " know their 
own selves." They know that they are unconverted; 
that they have neither part nor lot in the great salva- 
tion. They are not hypocrites, for they do not make 
false professions. Nevertheless, they do make public and 
most fearful professions! They profess to be the ene- 
mies of God / They stand boldly in the ranks of rebel- 
lion against Jehovah. Alas, beloved and misguided 
hearers, in this great matter there is no neutrality ! He 



128 



SELF-KNO WLEDGE. 



that is not with Christ is against him. You turn away 
from, you renounce, you scorn our sacraments. But you 
have your own / You are baptized unto death. Your 
communion is with hell! 

Pause, then, this day in your dark and dreadful ini- 
quity ! Take account of your doings ! " Know ye not 
your own selves ?" — that you are not beasts that perish, 
but creatures instinct with immortality ! Two eternal 
worlds watch you and strive for you. 

"Hell moves beneath to work your death, 
Heaven stoops to give you life." 

And are you willing to be lost ? To be lost for these 
poor phantasms of time, that recede as you pursue, and 
vanish as you touch them ? Oh ! pause in your mad 
career ! Pause ere it be too late ! ere the blood be all 
gone from the cross ! Oh, come to Christ Jesus for life 
—for life ! 

Fourthly, and finally. — The text speaks earnestly to 
the Church, There is, as we have already said, a terri- 
ble irony in its question. It intimates that between the 
professing people of God and the world there is so little 
visible difference that it is difficult to distinguish them. 
That in the husbandry of God. there is so little fruit of 
the Spirit, that it is a hard matter to find out even what 
trees are good. Now, although this is not true in all 
cases, yet alas ! in many cases it is. So little do some 
professing Christians live like the children of God, that 
only on sacramental sabbaths, — only four ti?nes a year, 
— do they even look like Christians/ On all other days 
of the week, sacred or secular, they are in no respect a 
peculiar people. 



SELF- KN 0 WLEI) GE. 



129 



Surely, then, O beloved children of God, it is time 
for us to rise into higher frames and spheres of religious 
life. 

We have come from the communion. We are there- 
fore re-consecrate ! And we feel to-day that such re- 
consecration was due unto our Saviour. Oh, "he was 
bruised for our iniquity !" We saw it. We felt it ! 
That "body" — the body of the Incarnate God, — was 
"broken" for our iniquity. That "blood" that mysteri- 
ous blood of an Incarnate God, was "shed" for our 
iniquity ! Here, here, were unto us the memorials of a 
divine consecration ! All the works of God, all the 
riches of God, all the attributes of God, all the persons 
of God, consecrated unto us! "All things present" — 
this universal range and power of the economy of Provi- 
dence ; " all things to come " — all that higher economy 
of the eternal world — thrones, crowns, white robes, heav- 
enly mansions — all — all consecrate to us ! God having 
given them to be ours, and using them henceforth^ for 
our good and glory. 

And surely, then, our consecration should be perfect ! 
Such was our profession. We did bring them all — talents, 
possessions, influence, time, all we have, all we are, — .we 
brought them all and laid them on God's altar in holy 
consecration, taking them into our hands again as things 
of a stewardship, to be used for God's glory ! Let us 
then respect the consecration. Let us live as becomes 
us ; live as if a Christian was separate from the world ; 
as if the children of God were "a peculiar people." Let 
us so live that all men must perceive and acknowledge 
our piety. 

Let us so grow in grace that hereafter we shall not 

6* 



130 



SELF-KNO WLED GE. 



need to self- examine ourselves with the sensitive finger 
carefully on the pulse to detect, haply, a fitful beating of 
life, But, as wisely "knowing our own selves," we shall 
be joyously confident that we are strong men in Christ 
Jesus, because our eyes flash, and our hearts beat, and 
our feet bound in the high courses of a heavenly and 
obedient life ! 



CHRISTIAN" INFLUENCE. 



" Now the man, out of whom the devils were departed, besought him 
that he might be with him : but Jesus sent him away, saying, Return to 
thine own house, and show how great tilings God hath done unto thee." — 
Luke, viii. 38, 39. 

In - our study of tneology, whether natural or revealed, 
we should never lose sight of the great truth — that God's 
thoughts are not our thoughts, neither are God's ways 
our ways. Our chief difficulties in pondering God's 
providential and gracious economies, arise from our fool- 
ish endeavors to lift human reason from its true place of 
scholarship to its false place of criticism, in forgetfulness 
of the truth, that as the heavens are higher than the 
earth, so are God's thoughts higher than our thoughts, 
and his ways than our ways. We do not say that man 
should not reason about Divine truth, whether natural or 
revealed. On the contrary, we know that reason is the 
only faculty whereby truth can be apprehended ; and so, 
every presentation of truth is a Divine appeal unto rea- 
son — and he that can not reason is an idiot, and he that 
dare not reason is a slave. And yet, in approaching 
truth as it has to do with Divine things, sound reason 
would lead us to expect much that is mysterious and in- 
comprehensible, and to be received simply on Divine au- 
thority — -faith, and not science being the law of our 
scholarship. 



132 CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 



Quite manifest it is that, alike in nature and revela- 
tion, God neither thinks nor acts according to man's 
standard of wisdom. God did not make the world as a 
wise man would have made it ; God does not govern the 
world as a wise man would govern it ; God has not writ- 
ten the Bible as a wise man would have written it. To 
this truth we must all come at last ; and the sooner the 
better, for our profit and consolation — for we shall in- 
crease in the true knowledge of God only when, and 
precisely as, our finite and imperfect reason sinks from 
its false place of criticism of God's doings, into its true 
place of scholarship at God's feet. 

God's ways are not our ways — God does not do things 
as we would do them. This* is the first thing we must 
thoroughly understand as students of theology. Of this 
important truth we have an illustration in the text. It 
is part of the record of Christ's miracle in the country of 
the Gadarenes. Having stilled the storm on Tiberias, 
he went forth from the ship with his disciples, and 
" there met him out of the city a certain man, which had 
devils long time, and ware no clothes, neither abode in 
any house, but in the tombs." A man so fearfully pos- 
sessed, that he brake in pieces the fetters and chains 
wherewith he was bound, and was driven of the devil 
into the wilderness, a torture unto himself, and a terror 
unto all men. Out of this poor demoniac, Christ com- 
manded the unclean spirit to depart ; and he sat clothed 
and in his right mind, trustful and loving at his Saviour's 
feet. And then and there he uttered the prayer re- 
corded in the text — u He besought Jesus that he might 
be with him" 

Now we say, had God's thoughts been as man's 



CHRISTIAN- INFLUENCE. 133 



thoughts, this prayer would have been answered. We 
can hardly imagine a more acceptable prayer than this. 
Whatever may have been the motive that inspired it — 
whether love for the Saviour's person, or gratitude for 
his deliverance, or consecration to his service, it must 
seem to us commendable. Meanwhile, we can perceive 
great benefits likely to result from his following Jesus, 
which, according to man's wisdom, would have secured 
the prayer's answer. 

How good, seemingly, it would have been for the man 
himself, to be ever with the Saviour, listening to his 
gracious instructions, and living in the sanctifying power 
of his presence ! How good, as well, for others ! Oh, 
what a witness for Christ he might have been, in the 
midst of the multitudes that followed his footsteps ! 
What sermons he could have preached of Christ's power 
and grace before Scribe and Pharisee in the streets of 
Jerusalem ! Surely, had man been the arbiter, this 
earnest prayer of the restored man to be with his Lord 
would have been graciously answered. But man's 
thoughts are not God's thoughts. The prayer was not 
answered. " Jesus sent him away /" 

Now, from this record we may learn some simple les- 
sons of practical instruction. As we have often shown 
you, these miracles of Christ are to be regarded as prac- 
tical parables, beautifully illustrating the working of 
Divine grace in salvation, and imparting important in- 
struction as to spiritual duties. And regarding Christ's 
treatment of this restored man, as in entire analogy with 
his treatment of true Christians, let us learn 

First — A lesson in regard to God's answering of 
prayer. 



134: CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 



As we have said, here was a' prayer which was seem- 
ingly proper, and right, and good, and yet* seemingly 
unanswered. And how are we to explain this ? Does 
not God positively promise to hear and answer prayers, 
that are proper and good? And are God's promises 
conditional ? Are they not all " yea and amen in Christ 
Jesus?" Is it, after all, amid uncertainties and contin- 
gencies, pressed .down with doubts and sadly distrust- 
ful, that we are to approach the mercy-seat ? If our 
prayers are proper and right, both in their spirit and 
their objects, may we not come to the throne of grace 
assured that they will be answered ? To which I an- 
swer, first — That according to the principle just insisted 
on, that God's thoughts are not our thoughts, no man is 
competent to decide positively whether the prayer he 
offers is in the right spirit. The petition of this Gada- 
rene may have originated in a selfish desire to be happy 
in Christ's presence, rather than useful in his service. 
And if so, it was self-considered, an improper prayer, 
and not to be answered. And so of other prayers. We 
must be more than finite ; we must rise actually into the 
infinite, so that God's thoughts become our thoughts, 
before we can sufficiently analyze our motives, and 
frames, and feelings in prayer, to decide, in any given 
case, that it is proper and acceptable. 

But we remark, secondly — That, even were we certain 
that the prayer is such as God promises to answer, there 
remains still a more important point to be considered, 
viz., the test way of answering it. If the Gadarene 
prayed properly, desiring only his own greatest good 
and God's greatest glory, then Christ may have seen 
that he would grow more rapidly in grace, and bring 



CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 



135 



more honor to his Saviour, by remaining among his own 
countrymen ; and thus really answered his petition by 
sending him away. And so it is always. God will 
assuredly answer all prayers that are proper and good ; 
but then he answers them in his own way, and according 
to his own higher wisdom. We can indeed cast our- 
selves, in entire confidence, upon God's faithful promises, 
relying on his absolute omnipotence as pledged to the 
prayer-answering. But, meanwhile, we must equally 
cast ourselves upon his absolute omniscience, as to the 
time, and form, and manner of the specific answer. 
Here, again, God's ways are not our ways. The Chris- 
tian prays to be sanctified ; and this is a good prayer, 
and if offered in a right spirit is sure to be answered. 
But how? Ah, not according to the man's thoughts! 
God lays his strong hand upon the man's idols. He 
takes away his property ; he takes away his health ; he 
takes away his comforts; he lays the beloved of his 
home and heart into the unpitying grave — thus weaken- 
ing his affections for the earthly and the carnal. "Ah," 
but says the Christian, " this is not what I meant !" Be 
it so; yet if you prayed sincerely to be sanctified, this is 
precisely what you asked for — for this is sanctification ! 
The nestling eaglet looks up to the majestic flight of the 
soaring eagle through heaven, and says, "Oh, that I 
could soar as bravely ! teach me, teach me to fly !" 
And, as if in answer to the wish, the parent-bird de- 
scends, and tears the soft nest in pieces, forcing the rest- 
ful brood forth to the sweeping winds. And though to 
the young bird it may seem almost cruel, yet it is just 
what it longed for — this is teaching it to fly ! And so is 
it always in God's treatment of his children. He an- 



136 



CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 



swers their prayers, but in his own way — for his thoughts 
are not our thoughts. 

But passing now from this great lesson of prayer, and 
considering the text as containing important parabolic 
instruction, we learn here several lessons as to practical 
Christian influence. 

We learn, flrst, the importance of such Christian influ- 
ence. 

The text most impressively teaches us that the law of 
Christian life is not spiritual enjoyment, but usefulness. 
Had Christ regarded the mere comfort of the restored 
Gadarene, he would have granted his request, and taken 
him with him to Galilee. But he sends him away, to be 
a blessing to his countrymen. And so it is with the 
Christian. If the end of his conversion were his own 
spiritual enjoyment, then, as soon as he is converted, he 
would be translated to Christ's presence in glory. The 
moment a man believes, that moment he is justified; 
and, as a justified man, has a clear and sure title to the 
heavenly inheritance. And, although we can perceive 
much in this earthly life that renders it a fine economy 
of spiritual discipline, so that the longer we struggle in 
the flesh the better we shall be fitted for heaven; yet, 
inasmuch as sanctification is always perfected at death, 
it must seem to us, on the whole, as to Paul, better to 
depart and be with Jesus. Sure we are, a year spent in 
celestial glory is better for a soul than a year spent in 
terrestrial grace. And so we may be certain, that, were 
a man's own enjoyment the grand end of his conversion, 
then the great change of regeneration would be followed 
instantly by his translation to Paradise. But this is not 
the grand end, and therefore he is not thus translated. 



CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 137 



If you can separate in your thought things that belong 
philosophically together, and are therefore inseparable, 
we might declare, that a man is not converted that he 
may be happy, but rather that he may be useful — " that 
others may see his good works, and glorify his Father 
who is in heaven." 

There is nothing falser and fouler, than that low, nar- 
row, selfish idea of conversion which regards it only as 
the condition whereby the man escapes from hell and 
gets into heaven. If such conversion makes a man good, 
it is a goodness out of harmony with all other good 
things. God's great law of goodness is not absorption, 
but diffusion. All God's glorious things, from a flower 
of the field to a star in the firmament, are not receptacles, 
but fountains. No man ever thought of one of God's 
angels as sitting selfishly on a heavenly throne, contem- 
plating in indolent rapture the sceptre he is wielding, 
and the diadem he wears. And if one of those profess- 
ing Christians, who think that all God requires of them 
is just to get themselves to glory, is a true child of God, 
then he lacks at least one evidence of sonship — he does 
not resemble his great Father. He is begotten in the 
very image of the infidel's God — that abstract and indo- 
lent omnipotence, that reposes in contemplative majesty 
behind the elements of Nature, that do all his* work for 
him — and has no likeness unto Jehovah, that immense 
and omni-operative Spirit, pervading all space with an 
active and beneficent energy. 

Of one thing are we certain, that every converted 
soul is designed by Jehovah to be " the light of the 
world.'''' And its use, like other light, is not to keep 
itself safe and warm under a bushel^ but to burn itself 



138 CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 



out on a candlestick, that it may give light to all that 
are in the house. Alas, how fearful the exclamation of 
our Lord in regard of all selfish and inefficient piety — 
"If the light that is in thee he darkness, how great is that 
darkness /" There is no image more terrible than this — 
an eclipsed luminary ! A star in the night, or a sun at 
noonday, ceasing suddenly to shine ! Nay, an orb that 
should be radiating light, absolutely radiating darkness ? 

Oh, careless and inactive and slumbering professor of 
religion, regarding your Christian hope as a fragment of 
the mortal wreck whereon you are to be floated to glory, 
and not a buoyant life-boat, with which you are to save 
your fellow-castaways from the raging water, would I 
could bring 'this truth home fittingly to your heart and 
mind ! " Ye are the light of the world!" and a light is 
kindled to shine. See that keeper of the beacon, on a 
rocky promontory in a stormy midnight ! We look 
forth upon the raging sea, and lo, by the flashes of light- 
ning, we behold laboring barks driving fiercely before 
the tempest. We look upward to the watch-tower, and 
the beacon shines not. In wild alarm for the imperiled 
seamen, we hurry to the keeper's chamber. We find 
him sitting at his ease, by a loaded board and a blazing 
hearth. We cry out, " What are you doing ?" And he 
answers, " Oh, I am taking care of myself ; there is a 
wild night outside, and I have sheltered me from the 
storm, and am making myself comfortable." And your 
cry in indignant response is, " But who sent you here to 
be com fortable ? Why, this very watch-tower, these very 
walls, these very fagots and oil, have been gathered 
round you, not for your own comfort, but for your busi- 
ness of light-keeping ! Up from your pleasure ! away 



CHRISTIAN' INFLUENCE. 139 



from your board and hearth ! kindle the beacon ! let the 
light shine !" 

And think you the Divine cry is less indignant unto 
a professing Christian at ease in Zion ? The law of all 
holy life is, not enjoyment, but usefulness. An angel 
in heaven, who should choose rather to repose in his 
glorious palace than to rush abroad at the Divine com- 
mandment, even through the outer darkness of the uni- 
verse, would be cast down from his throne as a rebel- 
lious spirit. And if Jesus Christ should descend again 
to the earth, dwelling as of old time with mortals, and 
one of these very happy and indolent Christians should 
come to him, saying, " O Lord Jesus, precious Saviour, 
let me ever sit at thy feet in love, and rapture, and 
worship !" then, sure I am Christ would frown on him 
as a slumbering and selfish disciple, and, like the re- 
stored man of Gadara, " would send him away." 

Passing this, we learn from the text, secondly, The 
secret, or element, of all true Christian influence. 

Our Lord sent this restored man away, that he might 
bear witness for God unto his kinsfolk and countrymen. 
But how was he to bear witness? Why, simply by 
making it manifest that the devil had gone out of him. 
Had he returned, seemingly, in disposition and charac- 
ter, an unchanged man to his kinsfolk, then, though he 
had talked as eloquently as an angel about Christ, the 
Wonder-worker, they had laughed him to scorn. He 
did indeed talk of Christ, for his tongue could not keep 
silent. But the power of his witness was not in his lips, 
but his life. They saw that he was a changed man. 
He, that in times past had walked in lone places in the 
wilderness, a terror to his race ; whom fetters could not 



140 CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 



bind, nor dungeons restrain; whose dwelling was in the 
tombs, and whose life was self-torture ; he, now clothed 
and in his right mind, came a gentle, peaceful, loving 
man of God, to the streets of the city, and the home of 
his children. And men saw it, and marveled. Here 
was a miracle ! Something too merciful to be believed, 
save on the evidence of their own senses. A hundred 
men might have come from Galilee, telling these Gada- 
renes of Christ, the Worker of Miracles, and yet all 
their arguments and eloquence would have been as 
nothing, to one hour's converse with this restored man 
— yesterday known to all as a raging demoniac, to-day 
a- gentle and loving companion, in his right mind. 
His power of testimony for Jesus was the power of his 
life. 

And in this lies the secret of all true Christian influ- 
ence. It is the easiest thing in the world to talk about 
religion. But mere talk about religion is the poorest 
thing in the world. Every true Christian will indeed 
talk about his Saviour. Out of the abundance of the 
heart the mouth speaketh. And if the voice does not 
speak for Christ, sure you may be the soul is not filled 
with Christ. Nevertheless, here as elsewhere, the utter- 
ance of the lips is as nothing to the influence of the 
life. In the Divine economy all grand forces are com- 
paratively gentle and silent. The shallow rill, that is 
dry on the mountain-side half the year, brawls more 
noisily at times than yon mighty river. The boy's 
sparkling rocket makes a louder demonstration in the 
night air than all God's starry constellations. And yet, 
in the silence of their sublime manifestations, how elo- 
quently do these great forces of the universe bear wit- 



CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 141 



ness for God ! And so it is of moral forces. The gentle 
movement of this restored man, amid his wondering 
countrymen, did more to convince them of Christ's 
saving power, than a thousand noisy utterances. And so 
is it with the convincing power of a Christian life. The 
converted man is left in this world a witness for Jesus 
— a living illustration of the power and blessedness of 
a religious life. He is to the theologic truth of the 
Bible what practical experiments are to scientific truths 
in Nature. As the chemist talks technically of ele- 
ments in analysis and synthesis, and exhibits in illus- 
tration, free gases and ponderous compounds; and as 
the botanist discourses scientifically of the structure of 
plants, and the functions of their parts, and shows you 
his meaning by producing the petals of a lily, or a 
spike of lavender — so is it with spiritual science, in the 
hands of the Great Teacher. The Bible explains, and 
Christian life illustrates, (e. g.) 

Mtith, by definition, is " the substance of things hoped 
for." But, in order to make men understand it, I must 
be able to point to some man who, under its power, lives, 
as did Abraham, ever looking for a city whose maker is 
God. Trust in God is, by definition, an unswerving 
resting of the mind on Divine veracity and benevolence. 
But, to make a man comprehend it, it must be in my 
power to point to men who, under its influence, sit calmly, 
like Daniel, in the lion's den ; or go resolutely, like the 
young Hebrews, into a fiery furnace. 

And so of all graces. In the Bible they are described, 
as in a written epistle — in Christian life they are illus- 
trated, as in a " living epistle." And in this sense are 
we, mainly, witnesses for Christ. As the Gadarenes saw 



142 



CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 



that the demoniac was restored, so must the world see 
that the sinner is converted. He must speak for Christ, 
as the flower and the star speak for God, in the beauty 
and glory of their physical manifestations. Without 
this abiding savor of a holy life, all else will prove but a 
mockery. 

When the blind man came from Christ, saying, " Jesus 
of Nazareth restored me to sight," men trusted not to 
his words — they examined his eyes. When the lame 
man cried, " Oh, Jesus has healed me," men did not 
inquire whether he was eloquent — but only whether he 
could walk / And so is it of salvation. A man may talk 
eloquently as an apostle about the purity and peace of 
a regenerated nature, but if, in the intervals of his 
religious orations, men find him slandering his neigh- 
bors ; or defrauding his customers ; or manifesting a rash 
and imprudent temperament ; or walking the streets of 
the city a proud, self-conceited, pleasure-loving, worldly- 
minded man, not letting his spiritual light shine at all, 
or letting it so shine that men shall see it and glorify not 
his Heavenly Father, but himself — then, alas, all his 
testimony for Christ will seem a poor trumpet sounded 
in the street. The voice is Jacob's, but the hands are 
Esau's ; the tongue is of Paul, but the heart is a 
Pharisee's. 

The power of the savor of a holy life. This is the 
power of a converted man to bring others to Jesus. Not 
so much to tell what Christ has done for us, as to show 
what he has done for us — so to walk before men that 
they shall see, and seeing, believe, that religion makes 
its subjects alike happy and holy. To take these grand 
truths of the Bible, which, as they lie embodied in creeds 



CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 



143 



and confessions, are as inoperative upon the popular con- 
science as mammoth fossils in rock, or dead insects in 
amber, and so exhibit them in the power of a daily life, 
that they seem creatures of mighty strength, shaking the 
earth — creatures of joyous heart, singing in the sunshine. 
To walk before the men of the world, in the exhibition 
of such superinduced graces of godliness — -so humble, so 
gentle, so loving, so merciful, so manifestly subjects of a 
Divine change into light out of darkness, from death 
unto life — that no man can confound the true piety with 
a mock pharisaism ; but, as in the case of the restored 
Gadarene, beholding one that, from a tortured demoniac, 
hath become a gentle follower of Jesus, all men shall be 
constrained to acknowledge that there is a reality in 
religion — that he that is in Christ Jesus is a new crea- 
ture. This, I say, is the true secret, or element, of all 
Christian influence. 

Meanwhile, the text teaches us, thirdly — The true 
sphere of this Christian influence. 

This is most strikingly set forth in Christ's words to 
the restored man. Filled with a love of Jesus, he prayed 
that he might go with him, as a witness, giving testi- 
mony unto his gracious power, through the villages of 
Galilee, and to the city of Jerusalem. But the command 
of the Saviour is, " Return to thine own house, and show 
how great things God hath done unto thee." 

We may not be able to understand all the reasons of 
this command. It is, however, quite evident, first, that 
his home would be the field of his most powerful influ- 
ence — since those who had best known him in his demo- 
niacal state, would be the most thoroughly convinced of 
Christ's power of miraculous restoration. And, secondly, 



144 CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 



that his home would be tjie most appropriate field of his 
influence, since his kinsfolk had the first claim upon his 
sympathy and labors. And, were there no reasons but 
these, this direction of Christ teaches us this important 
lesson in regard of Christian influence — that its truest 
field, and its mightiest power, are cdike always at home. 

Its mightiest power is at home, because the members 
of a man's own household, and the familiar friends of his 
own social circle, are the best judges of the genuineness 
of his conversion. It is very easy to put on seemings of 
godliness that shall deceive strangers ; but that must be 
a true piety, which, amid the daily vexations of life, and 
the unrestrained intercourse of the home-circle, bears the* 
image of Jesus. The testimony of a man's parents, or 
wife, or children, or servants, or customers, or employ- 
ers, to his sincere piety, is worth all the certificates of 
church courts and sessions the world ever saw. As the 
kinsfolk of the Gadarene were the best judges of his res- 
toration, so are kinsfolk always the best judges of con- 
version. And it is, at once, a finer proof, and a higher 
manifestation of vital godliness, to live every day in the 
family-circle, in the commandments and ordinances of 
the Lord blameless, than to sing songs, like Paul in the 
dungeon of Philippi, or see visions, like John on the lone 
rock of Patmos. 

Meanwhile, a man's home is the fittest field for the ex- 
ercise of his Christian influence. Religion, like charity, 
should begin at home. Here, emphatically, "he that 
provides not for his own, denies the faith, and is worse 
than an infidel." It is right to have an expansive benev- 
olence ; a Christian love that takes in a race and a 
world. Nevertheless, all true expansion presupposes a 



CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 145 



fixed and vigorous central power. Expansion is -not 
locomotion, but enlargement ; a growth, and not a jour- 
ney. And that Christian benevolence, which neglects 
religion at home for the sake of carrying it abroad, is 
at best but a locomotive, and not an enlarged benevo- 
lence. 

Many men, when first converted, feel, like this Gada- 
rene, an earnest desire to go forth into new fields, bear- 
ing witness for Jesus. But, though this may be the dic- 
tate and desire of true piety, Divine wisdom directs 
otherwise. Go first to the field where God hath cast 
your lot — to your family, to your social circle, to the 
companions of your own sinful life. Here, at least, is 
your first work. See that your own field is well tilled, 
ere you go abroad to other fields. Your own heart 
first ; then your own family ; then your own church ; 
then your own country; and then the whole world. 
This is God's great law of influence. The heart must be 
in strong health, if the circulation be vigorous and 
healthful in the extremities. The roots and trunk of a 
tree must thrive, if it would fling forth new branches. 

No matter, indeed, how largely a man expands — the 
larger his benevolence the better — if he expand har- 
moniously, from a healthy and permanent centre. Let 
him not mistake diffusion for expansion, nor a change 
of scene for an enlargement of influence. Let 'him go 
forth, like the apostles, over all the world ; only, like the 
same apostles, let his ministry for Christ begin at Jeru- 
salem. 

Would that all Christians, and all Christian churches, 
would leai'n this simple lesson, which Christ taught to 
the restored man of Gadara. One fixed and steadfast 
1 



146 CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 



sun, standing earnestly in its appointed place, and dif- 
fusing constant light and life over the small circle of 
worlds God has committed to its keeping, is worth more 
than a hundred erratic comets, naming out in the heav- 
ens, and casting a fiery and locomotive glare on a 
thousand constellations. " Let me go," said the restored 
man, "let me go with thee, Master. Let me walk 
through broad Galilee, and stand up as a living witness 
for God before Greek and Jew ; before ruler and Phari- 
see." And though this request falls in with the dictate 
of human reason, yet, oh, deeper wisdom of the blessed 
Saviour ! Christ sent him unto his own kinsfolk, saying, 
" Go home! Go homer 

Moreover, the text teaches us, finally, the motives of 
this Christian influence. " Return to thine own house," 
said the Saviour. And though the command was not 
according to his prayers, the man obeyed it instantly. 
And the reasons of his obedience are obvious. Doubtless, 
there was in his heart a natural desire to visit again, in 
his restored state, his own household. The text tells us 
he had "a home;" and faithful hearts, long agonized in 
his behalf, were to be comforted and blessed by his 
presence. And though, for his own sake, he preferred to 
be with Jesus, yet, for the sake of beloved kindred, he 
w T as willing to depart. Here was one motive, and a 
strong one. 

But the text gives us a stronger. The Divine com- 
mandment — " Christ sent him away.'''' He may not have 
had the intellect to understand why Christ thus ordered 
it ; but he surely had the heart, that, in its supreme love 
to his great Deliverer, rejoiced above all things to do 
his bidding. And though that command bade him away 



CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 



147 



from his Master's presence, into those very scenes where 
the terrible demon had aforetime found him, yet he 
obeyed it at once, unquestioning and joyful. 

And here are the types of Christian motives, in labors 
for the Saviour. Here is, first, philanthropy — the love 
of our human kindred ; a desire to save the sons and 
daughters of our one great Father. The man feels what 
it is to be saved himself ; and instinctively and earnestly 
desires to save others. As a mariner, taken from the 
fragments of a wreck, will spring into the stormy sea to 
save imperiled shipmates — as a mother, borne forth 
from a burning house, will rush again into the flames, to 
bring forth her perishing children — so a saved soul longs 
and labors to save other men. Like the Gadarene, he 
can depart even from the Saviour's presence, for the sake 
of his beloved ones. Like Paul, he " could wish that 
himself were accursed from Christ for his brethren, his 
kinsmen according to the flesh.'''' And every strong 
motive, whose spring is in the better and gracious im- 
pulses of a generous nature, urges him resistlessly on- 
ward to bring sinful men to Christ. 

But yet, strong as this motive is, it is as nothing to that 
second and mightier one — the command of his Master. 
Christ, his great and gracious Saviour, hath commanded 
him, as the grand end of his earthly being, to labor to 
bring impenitent men under the power of the Gospel. 
And this motive is omnipotent. "The love of Christ 
constraineth him." Other motives might fail — philan- 
thropy, benevolence, love for kind or for kindred — these 
might appeal to him in vain. He might think of the 
dark places of the earth, full of the habitations of cruelty ; 
of the Indian's babe on a heathen altar; of a Hindoo 



148 CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 



widow on the terrible death-pyre — he might think of 
the home of his familiar friend, made desolate and de- 
spairing by reason of unbelief and iniquity — yea, perhaps 
he might think even of an immortal soul as abiding 
under the curse of a violated law ; and so, exposed every 
moment to a death that is eternal — he might think of all 
these things, I say, and yet, under the dread power of 
his remaining carnality, remain comparatively indolent 
and at ease in Zion. But, meanwhile, there is one motive 
that will not, can not fail — his intense love for Jesus. 
He knows that the salvation of men is the desire lying 
nearest to the heart that was pierced on Calvary — a 
desire with which that heart is burdened — a desire with 
which it travails. And before that one thought every 
selfish consideration of ease, or honor, or pleasure, passes 
away, as sere leaves before a tempest. " Oh," he says, 
" I can do my Lord's bidding ! I can gladden my Sa- 
viour's heart ! I can add jewels of immense price to 
Emmanuel's many crowns ! And what care 1 now for 
the world's prizes ? Why shrink I now from the world's 
frown ? Oh, for a thousand hearts to love Jesus ! Oh, 
for a thousand tongues to praise Jesus ! Oh, for a thou- 
sand lives to spend and be spent in the service of Jesus ! 
The love of my kindred might fail — but the love of Christ 
constraineth me /" 

The text then sets forth the importance, the elements, 
the sphere, and the motives of true Christian influence. 
Let us study the record, and take home its lessons. 
How it speaks to ijrofessing Christians ! Alas, for our 
feeble faith, and feeble obedience ! How this poor man 
of Gadara shames our fitful and hesitating testimonies 
for Jesus ! Behold him there in the streets of Decapolis, 



CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE. 



149 



among the friends and companions of his early years of 
iniquity and anguish ! See how his eyes flash — how his 
heart bounds ! Hark, how in simple, yet earnest elo- 
quence he tells them of that gracious Redeemer, who 
met him in his wretched wanderings, and succored and 
saved him. 

Brethren and sisters, let us do likewise. Ah, we have 
a more touching story to tell than this man of Gadara, 
for we were bowed with a more terrible curse, and have 
been redeemed with a more wonderful salvation. Lost 
— lost — lost, we were ! hopelessly lost ! eternally lost ! 
And as we wandered in darkness unto death, Jesus met 
us in mercy. He looked on us tenderly ; he approached 
us ; he saved us — saved us from eternal death ; put our 
feet upon a rock, and a new song into our mouth ; filled 
our hearts with the joys of salvation ; lifted us to the 
raptures of everlasting life ! And now, raised — ran- 
somed — redeemed, around us a world of spiritual death, 
before us a world of eternal life, what have we to do but 
to proclaim Christ's great grace ? To tell the story of 
redeeming power — to sing the song of redeeming love ? 
11 To return to our homes, and shovj how great things 
God hath done unto us ?" 

But the text speaks, as well, to the impenitent. These 
miracles of our Lord were designed to illustrate the 
greater and gracious miracle of regeneration. This 
case of the demoniac is God's own chosen emblem of 
the unregenerate spirit. If not precisely in the old 
Hebrew sense, yet in a sense most mysteriously and 
fearfully true — every impenitent man is possessed of 
devils. Of him, revelation declares that the god of this 
world blindeth the eye and ruleth in the heart. Were 



150 



CHRISTIAN 



I NFL UENCE. 



it not for this, insensibility to eternal things would be 
impossible. To the eye of sane wisdom, these pleasures 
of sin seem terrible. They are like the rainbows that 
flit along the death-curve of a cataract. Like crystals 
that sometimes sparkle down in the hot crater of a 
rocking volcano. 

The glorious idols of a sinful life are, at best, but 
phantoms — there is nothing real in them. And they 
seem substantial, and beautiful, and good, only because 
the great Sorcerer hath waved his wand and muttered 
his incantation. Alas, impenitent men, ye are demon- 
ized! Seeming to yourselves clothed in fair robes, and 
surrounded by joyous companions, and living in palaces, 
ye are yet, in the sight of God's loyal universe, poor 
outcasts from all holy fellowship — self torturing, self-de- 
stroying — cutting yourselves with stones, and dwelling 
in sepulchres. 

Study, then, carefully this record, and learn the un- 
speakable blessedness of that change which makes man a 
Christian. Behold this man of Gadara, as he comes to 
Jesus. A raging demoniac, escaped from dungeons. 
His eyes wild with fiendish passion — his limbs loaded 
with links of broken fetters — his flesh scarred with self- 
torture — a fierce, raging, despairing demoniac ! So he 
comes. But the gracious Saviour hath compassion. He 
speaks, and the torturing demons flee — the fiendish spell 
is broken ! See ! Clothed and in his right mind, — gentle, 
loving, blessed — his heart bounding with a higher and 
holy life — his eyes soft with the light of a heavenly and 
unutterable rapture — he sits at Christ's feet, and hears 
his words ! 

And now, go a little on in his history. He hath obeyed 



CHRISTIAN INFIUEN CE. 



151 



the voice of his Master, and departed to his home. 
Imagine that return — that approach to his household — 
that crossing the threshold — that welcome of the be- 
loved ones— those bounding feet — those clasping arms — 
those sobbing utterances of overwhelming rapture, too 
deep for words ! See ! Yesterday, he dwelt in sepul- 
chres — the decay of the grave-cavern ; the scent of cor- 
ruption ; the solitude ; the silence ; the chill damps ; the 
appalling shadows ; the phosphorescence of death — 
these, and such as these, were with him and around 
him !• 

Now, he is with the living, in his own fair dwelling — 
the fragrance of dewy flowers — the light of the land's 
glad summer — the ministries of gentle hands — the bright- 
ness of loving eyes — the music of loving voices — all the 
peace, the triumph, the rapture of holy and exultant life 
— within him and around him ! Oh, change ! Oh, 
wondrous change ! Yesterday with the dead, in the 
cold, unpitying tomb — to-day with the living, in a fair 
and blessed home ! And yet, only faintly an emblem of 
that change in regeneration, whereby an immortal spirit 
is freed from its tormentors, and a soul dead in sins is 
made alive in Christ Jesus ! 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



" Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling. For it is 
God which worketh in you both to will and to do." — Philippiaxs, 
ii. 12, 13. 

One of the most important attainments of specula- 
tive wisdom is — to know iohe?i to stop. One of the finest 
exhibitions of practical wisdom is — to stop at the right 
time, and in the right place. Unto man, in his fini- 
tude, there are set bounds that he can not pass. There 
are physical regions, into w T hich he can not carry one of 
his senses. There are intellectual regions, into which 
he can not carry one of his perceptions. As a creature, 
finite in faculties and powers, he is hemmed in by bar- 
riers, whereon, unto all his yearning and headlong prog- 
ress, God has written the ordinance — " thus far shalt 
thou go, and no farther." And to attempt to force these 
barriers is foolishness. To stop, when we can go no 
farther safely, is true wisdom. A wise child might 
ascend a mountain top, to get clearer views of the starry 
heavens ; but if, while standing there, enamored of some 
fair planet, he should spring from the dizzy height, with 
a wild hope of being drawn within its sphere, and thus 
learning more of its mysterious loveliness — this were 
midsummer madness. 

And just as self-destructive is the folly of a man, 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



153 



who, in regard of the great mysteries of revelation, 
attempts to be wise above what is written. To the very 
* loftiest heights of revealed doctrine he may advance 
with a firm footstep, knowing that he walks on the 
everlasting rock of Divine truth ; but to adventure be- 
yond this, is to fling himself from an adamantine plat- 
form, into the tremendous depths of error that yawn 
around him. 

God tells us all that it is necessary to know ; and 
with this we must be satisfied. But, alas, with it, too 
often, we are not satisfied ! God gives the facts — we 
want their explanation. And so, much of our specula- 
tive theology is like the fluttering 

" Of the adventurous bird, that hath outflown 
Its strength upon the sea — ambition-wrecked — 
A thing the thrush might pity, as she sits 
Brooding in quiet on her lowly nest." 

And in nothing is this more manifest, than in regard 
of the truth brought to view in the text — the itnion of 
Divine and human agencies in the work of salvation. 
You are all of you aware how much of controversial 
theology there is on this point ; how the Church of 
Christ has, in all time, been divided on the great truths 
of God's sovereignty and mail's free agency. No man 
can read the Bible with a teachable spirit, and not per- 
ceive how both these truths are abundantly and expli- 
citly set forth in its revelations. God is a sovereign. 
God does foreordain whatsoever comes to pass. There 
is a decree of election. The names of the elect are 
from eternity in the Lamb's book of life. But, mean- 
while, man is a free agent— as verily free to choose sal- 
7* 



154: 



GRACE A JSfD WORKS. 



vation — as honestly invited to find justification in 
Christ, and final glory in heaven — as if there were no 
decree of election, and God were not a sovereign in sal- * 
vation. These are both great truths, on which we can 
stand, as on everlasting mountains. But, then, how to 
reconcile them is man's difficulty. Not satisfied with 
receiving them both, as distinct oracles of God, we must 
philosophize about their practical consistency and har- 
mony. And here arise our antagonistic schools of the- 
ology; all alike, either stretching or mutilating, with 
Procrustean logic, some Divine member, till the whole 
glorious body of truth lies in tortured adjustment unto 
their own favorite system — the one, abating the fullness 
of God's sovereignty; the other, abating the fullness of 
man's free-agency — the one, wresting God's sceptre from 
his hand, lest man should seem a slave ; the other, bind- 
ing man with an iron fetter, lest God should not seem 
a sovereign. 

Now, in attempting to reconcile these truths, we fling 
ourselves from the adamantine paths of revelation, sheer 
over the fearful precipices of unhallowed conjecture. 
TTe know, indeed, that they are reconcilable, because 
they are both truths ; and all truth is, and must be, 
beautifully consistent. But man can not reconcile them. 
Nay, with his present imperfect faculties, man can not 
understand .their reconciliation; and so God gives him 
no explanation of their consistency. But God does most 
distinctly affirm, not only that they are both truths, but 
that they are truths beautifully and harmoniously coex- 
istent in his great plan of salvation. 

This is precisely what the apostle does in the text. 
Here, in the fewest and simplest words possible, he 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



155 



affirms God's sovereignty in salvation, and man's free- 
agency in salvation ; and meanwhile, asserts their 
philosophic connection — not reasoning, as we reason, 
that, because God is a sovereign, man has nothing to do 
nor, that because man has something to do, God is not 
a sovereign — but, on the contrary, that man is a free 
agent, just because God is a sovereign ; calling upon 
the Philippians, with the earnestness of the broadest 
Arminianism, " to work out their own salvation with fear 
and trembling" — and urging, as a motive this stanch- 
est Calvinism, " that God worketh in them both to will 
and to do his own good pleasure.'''' 

Now, this is our text. And, in its consideration, let 
us follow exactly the lead of the apostolic thought ; not 
attempting to explain the connection of these two 
truths, but assuming their consistency, and receiving 
them both, in their order and fullness, without cavil or 
questioning. 

The apostle then asserts in the text — First, the abso- 
lute sovereignty of God in human salvation. "It is God 
that worketh in you both to will and to do.'''' 

And here the reference is, manifestly, not to Christ's 
work in purchasing salvation, but to the Spirit's work in 
applying salvation — not God working for us, but God 
working;' in us. There is indeed a great work which 
God must do, and so has done for man. Sinners as we 
are against the Divine law, that law must be satisfied, 
or salvation is impossible. And so, " God did give his 
only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him should 
not perish.'''' All this God does for man. But, over and 
above all this, there is a work to be done upon the sinful 
heart — a regenerating and sanctifying work — as abso- 



156 



GRACE AXD WORKS. 



lutely essential to salvation as Christ's great sacrifice. 
And this is what is referred to in the text, as " God's 
working in us." And this Divine work in the soul is 
here accurately defined. 

" God worketh in you both to will and to do "—first, 
God worketh in man "to will." The word here is well 
rendered. It means just this in the original — "to wish" 
— "to desire" — "to choose." These are its synonyms. 
And however philosophers may be allowed to differ in 
their metaphysical speculations, yet that theologians, 
who go to God's word for truth, can, after this assertion, 
maintain their theories of a self-determining power in the 
will, is verily a marvel. 

Call this "will" what you please — a distinct faculty 
of the soul, or only one of its exercises or actions— yet 
of it the text expressly asserts, that in the choice of sal- 
vation its volitions are absolutely determined by the 
influences of God's Spirit — not merely that God assists 
all who are willing to be saved — but that this very will- 
ingness to be saved must itself be wrought in the soul by 
God. 

It may, indeed, be urged, that it is inconceivable that 
a man should be free, and yet Divinely determined to 
certain courses. But to this we answer, first, that liberty 
consists in doing what we do with knowledge, and from 
choice. And the Divine influence upon our will, myste- 
rious as it is, is so entirely accordant with our mental 
constitution, that it leaves all untouched this liberty — 
God makes us willing, and that very willingness is our 
free choice. To say that a man must, of himself, consent 
to co-operate with the Holy Spirit, before — either in the 
order of nature or of time— the Holy Ghost sovereignly 



GRACE AND WORKS. 157 



operates, is, therefore, simply to say that an effect pre- 
cedes its cause. And this whole vaunted proposition, of 
the freedom of the will — i. e., the will's sovereign, self- 
moving, or self-determining power — means simply and 
absurdly just this, That a man must be willing that the 
Holy Ghost should work in him to will, i. e., that a man 
must be willing, before he can be willing. 

But to this we answer, secondly, That whether or not 
it be beyond our comprehension, how a man can be free 
and yet graciously determined to certain courses, yet, 
here in the text and elsewhere, it is expressly asserted, 
that a man's will is thus graciously determined, and yet 
that he is free. And he'is here urged to work out earn- 
estly his own salvation, just because it is God that work- 
eth in him, not only "to do" but "to will." 

Nor does the Divine influence end here. " God loork- 
eth in us both to wilt and to do" — i. e., not only does the 
man will (i. e., choose, or resolve, or determine to do what 
God requires of him), under the Divine influences, but 
this influence causes him, as well, to perform or accom- 
plish his resolves and purposes. 

If this language means any thing, it must mean that 
a man's ability to comply with the conditions of salva- 
tion is absolutely and entirely a Divine gift — a Divine 
gift in the will to do; a Divine gift in the power to do. 
It asserts, what is everywhere else asserted in the Scrip- 
tures, that salvation, from beginning to end, is altogether 
of grace — that Christ Jesus came into the world, not 
merely to render men salvable, i. e., to place them in cir- 
cumstances where they can save themselves, but posi- 
tively to save them. 

Paul, certainly, never shrinks from this assertion. He 



158 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



never softens clown this great truth of God's sovereignty 
in salvation, to square with any philosophic notion of a 
partial self-righteousness. He, at least, ascribes the whole 
work, from foundation to top-stone, to God's omnipotent 
grace — grace, not manifested merely in the purchase of 
salvation by the Son's sacrifice, but manifested, as well, 
in the application of salvation by the Spirit's influences. 
Paul's theology was out-and-out and aboveboard as to 
man's inability to do any good thing. His account of the 
carnal heart is, not that it is somewhat, indeed, set toward 
evil, and yet capable, somehow, of self-transformation to 
good— but, on the contrary, that it is absolutely " enmity 
toward God, not subject to his law, neither indeed can be." 
And his theory of the Spirit's influence in salvation is, 
not that of a mere presentation of persuasive motives, 
but, the rather, that of an omnipotent energy upon the 
soul, " working in it both to will and to do of God's own 
good pleasure." 

This, then, is Paul's theology, as it has to do with 
God's work in salvation. He asserts here, as distinctly 
as is possible for human language, that the whole gra- 
cious experience in the soul, from the first choice or voli- 
tion — that state of the will that lies back of all moral 
action — on through all the successive acts, inward or 
outward, of practical obedience, is alike and altogether 
the work of Divine grace in the heart. But then, having 
asserted this great truth in all its absolute fullness, he 
goes on to assert as unqualifiedly, and unhesitatingly, and 
absolutely, 

Secondly, The entire f ree-agency of man in this viork 
of salvation. 

« Work out your own salvation with fear and trem- 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



159 



bli?tg." Here, right in the seeming face of this doctrine 
of Divine sovereignty, he calls upon men to exert them- 
selves for the salvation of the soul, precisely as in regard 
of any other great interest, confessedly dependent upon 
human choice and activity. 

And herein is Paul's wisdom. He attempts not to har- 
monize these truths to human comprehension; he does 
better, he assumes their entire harmony. He takes that 
very sovereignty of God, which the Arminian tells us in- 
fringes man's free-agency, and sets it forth as the very 
foundation of such free-agency. He urges men to se'ek 
salvation, not because they have any power to save 
themselves, but, positively, because they can do nothing 
without God. Mark the force of the word "/or" here. 
" Work out your oion salvation, for God toorketh in 
you.'''' Seemingly a false logic, you say. Be it so. It 
is Paul's logic ; or, rather, the logic of the Holy Ghost, 
that inspired Paul's deliverances. Let it therefore be 
ours. Whether we can understand it or not, the sover- 
eignty of Divine grace is the only encouragement to 
human efforts for salvation. Let us take the truth at 
God's hand, and believe it, and rely on it. Let us stand 
on the eternal adamant of God's word, and not fling 
ourselves over the awful precipices of philosophic con- 
jecture. 

One thing is certain. Every man that is saved must 
work out his own salvation. There is nothing in God's 
sovereignty which weakens this necessity. Nay, rather 
is that immutable sovereignty the very ground of the 
necessity. We may not be idle because God is busy. 
On the contrary, we must work, just because God works. 

So it is, even in the analogies of nature. The fact, 



160 GRACE AND WORKS. 

that throughout all visible materialism God's operations 
are manifestations of absolute and inflexible sovereignty; 
that the known laws of his universe allow no infringe- 
ments ; that its properties are immutably inherent, and 
its processes perpetual and everlasting — this sublime 
fact is man's strongest encouragement to effort. Because 
God's winds blow, man spreads his adventurous canvas. 
Because God's planets revolve in undeviating constancy, 
man sows in spring-time and reaps in autumn. In all 
his manifold activities man proceeds in faith of the unde- 
viating uniformity of visible nature. And to fling a 
doubt on that uniformity — to awaken a suspicion in the 
human mind, that, in his grand physical economy, God 
works without the steadfastness of an everlasting pur- 
pose — this were to destroy at a blow man's last motive 
to energy, and leave him a despairing idler amid the 
wild chances of the universe. 

So it is in nature. Man is encouraged to work, be- 
cause, in his resistless sovereignty, God works within and 
around him. And so, according to apostolic logic, is it 
in the economy of grace. God's sovereignty is the very 
ground of man's free-agency — the very encouragement to 
human effort. " Work out your own salvation with fear 
and trembling, for it is God that worketh in you both to 
will and to do." 

Now, with this simple setting-forth of the apostolic ar- 
gument, let us pass to consider the apostolic exhortation. 

" Work out your own salvation with fear and trem- 
bling." 

The nature of this " working-out" is explained in the 
other clause of the text — it is the very " willing and 
doing" to which God excites us. 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



161 



First — We must "will." The word means much 
more than a simple wish, or desire. It denotes that 
act of the mind, or state of the mind, in which, after the 
understanding has compared different things, and the 
judgment has decided which is preferable, then it deter- 
mines, or is determined, to pursue the favorite one. 

Without this, all other emotions or exercises are use- 
less. I may believe there is a heaven ; I may understand 
something of its glories; I may even desire earnestly its 
beatitudes; but without this will — this fixed and stead- 
fast resolution to break away from my sins and take 
heaven by violence — all else will be unavailing. 

Meanwhile, you will observe, this act of will has re- 
spect to the present moment. The instant a man wills * 
to do a thing, that instant he sets about it. To resolve 
to do a thing to-morrow, is not " to will " to do it ; but 
is, rather, to will not to do it at present. The act of 
" willing " is simultaneous with, or at least followed in- 
stantly by, the act of " doing." " To will," then, in the 
sense of the text, is, at once and without delay, resolutely 
and earnestly, to set about the great work of salvation. 

But the text goes further. " We must will and must 
do." To toill has regard to the instant beginning ; to do 
has regard to the persevering accomplishment. Those 
acts of repentance and faith, which God commands, and 
unto which the Spirit strengthens us, are at once to be- 
come, and constantly continue, the grand business of 
life. A life of prayer, of self-denial, of watchfulness, of 
active and persevering well-doing in all the divine ordi- 
nances — such a life is to be instantly chosen, and earn- 
estly pursued, under the influences of the strengthening 
and sanctifying Spirit — taking Christ to be our Saviour, 



162 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



and the word of God to be our rule of life, we are hence- 
forth, in the active and entire consecration of all our 
powers and faculties, " to will and to do of God's good 
pleasure." And thus, in the sense of the text, " we worh 
out our salvation." 

This is the matter of the commandment ; but, for the 
sake of practical instruction, let us consider more care- 
fully the manner of its obedience. 

a Work out your own salvation" Paul does not com- 
mand these Philippians to save themselves. There was 
no thought in his mind of any meritorious self-righteous- 
ness. Man can, by no work of his own, either procure 
salvation or merit salvation. As the Philippian jailer 
* did not ask, " What shall I do to save myself ?" but, 
"What shall I do to be saved f" so, in the text, the whole 
efficiency and ground of salvation are ascribed absolutely 
to the omnipotent working of God. God worketh the 
salvation within the soul — man only worketh that salva- 
tion out in the Christian life. To break off from known 
sin ; to renounce all self-righteousness ; to cast ourselves 
in loving faith on the merits of Christ crucified ; to com- 
mence at once a life of self-denial, of prayer, of obedi- 
ence ; to turn from all that God forbids, resolutely and 
earnestly unto all that God requires — this is what the 
text implies. But then this is not salvation. Oh, no ! 
Salvation is of God — of grace — of free grace. From the 
germ to the fruit, from foundation to top-stone — of grace, 
free grace, altogether and only. The sacrifice of the 
Son, the sanctification of the Spirit — all this is a Divine 
work, in which God will allow no copartnership of 
man's poor merits, man's miserable self-righteousness. 

But though not salvation, it is the " working out of 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



163 



salvation " — it is mail's part in the work of salvation. 
And this he must do, or perish. This is his own work. 
God will not repent for the man ; nor believe for the 
man ; nor lead a holy life for the man. God worketh 
inwardly — man worketh outwardly. And this outward 
human work is as necessary as the inward Divine work. 

"Work out your own salvation." There is a strong 
emphasis here, on the words " your own." Here is some- 
thing to be done, which no one can do for you. ISTo be- 
loved friend can save you — no teaching minister; no 
praying Christian ; no visiting or guardian angel ; not 
even God himself, save as you fall in with his gracious 
operations, working out your own salvation as he work- 
eth in you. Here is something for you to do, without 
which, as God lives and your soul lives, that poor soul 
will perish. This is " your oicn " work. Not something 
you are to pray God to do for you, but to do for your- 
selves. And if you wait for God to do it, you will wait 
forever. 

Alas, for the madness of the soul, that, living under 
Gospel ordinances, sits quietly down in its sins, waiting 
for God to convert it ! As if a husbandman should sit 
idly in his dwelling, expecting God to fill his garner 
with golden harvests ! As if a sailor should lie at an- 
chor by the shore, expecting God to tear his bark from 
its moorings, and drive him, a compelled voyager, to the 
blessed isles of ocean ! 

God's time hath already come. God's work is done 
already. God's only Son hath died. God's only Spirit 
hath descended. And what more are you looking for ? 
Ah ! it is himself — God's own gracious and glorious self 
— that cries, " What more could I do for my vineyard 



164 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



that I have not done?" "As J live, J— I — have no 
pleasure in the death of the sinner /" Turn ye — turn ye 
— why will ye die f. What remains, then, is your work 
— to be done by yourselves, if it is ever done. Work 
out your own salvation — for it is your own — your own ! 
Yea, more — " Work out your own salvation with fear 

AND TREMBLING." 

If you examine the original, you will perceive that 
several distinct thoughts are involved in these words. 
They express deep humility and self-distrust^ as well as 
profound concern and anxiety. 

First — They express humility and self-distrust. They 
are precisely the words Paul uses when he speaks of 
himself, among the Corinthians, as being " in weakness, 
and in fear, and in much trembling." And in this sense 
the thought is — that while we work out our own salva- 
tion, it is to be with no thought of self-righteousness — 
feeling that, after all our working, salvation is wholly of 
that Divine grace that work eth in us. This gives a good 
sense, and an important sense. Alas, this is what, seem- 
ingly, the Church greatly wants just now — this " fear 
and trembling /" this deep and unfeigned humility in the 
work of salvation. Alas, for our glorying ! — this sacri- 
ficing unto our own drag and net, in our lauding of 
means and measures ! If there is any thing that will 
grieve God's Spirit to depart, it is this proud self-suffi- 
ciency. God is a jealous God. His own glory he will 
not see given to another. Means of grace become hin- 
derances, become curses, the moment we substitute them 
for grace itself — as the brazen serpent, whereby Israel 
had been healed, became Israel's curse, when they 
burned incense unto it as an idol. The power that 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



165 



brings sinners to the Saviour is altogether of God ; and 
our work, as his fellow-laborers, must be in the deep hu- 
mility and self-abasement of unprofitable servants. 

This is, moreover, what the individual soul wants. 
The man who boldly and confidently, as if he were doing 
some brave and noble thing for Christ, resolves to be a 
Christian, lacks the first evidence of genuine conversion. 
The truly regenerate heart trusts solely and forever in 
a Saviour's merits. He makes no mention of what he 
has done, or can do ; but talks ever and only of what 
his Lord hath done. He works, not with a proud self- 
righteousness, as if the work were his work, but " with 
fear and trembling, for it is God that worketh in him.'''' 

Meanwhile, these words express, as well, profound 
concern and anxiety. That anxiety and concern with 
which a work of such awful importance is ever per- 
formed. This anxiety arises from several considerations. 

First — From the thought, that this work of salvation 
is the work to ichich God has set us. 

This direction of the apostle is a divine command- 
ment. Alas, for our common mistake — that these Gospel 
offers are simple invitations. They are, as well, the 
solemn utterances of a Divine law, which the man is 
bound to obey as instantly and unhesitatingly as any 
commandment thundered on Sinai. Think, then, of the 
attitude of one who delays the work of salvation, on the 
pitiful plea that he is willing, and waiting for God to 
convert him — he is refusing obedience to a Divine com- 
mandment. He is acting precisely as Noah would have 
done, if, when directed by God to build an ark, he had 
waited idly from year to year in his house, saying, 
" When the Almighty builds the ark, I am ready to go 



166 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



into it." Verily, fearfulness becomes such a man. He is 
not merely slighting an invitation — he is trampling on a 
law ! And " it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of 
the living God." We are to work out, in our salvation, 
a Divine commandment ; therefore, we should give our- 
selves to that work " with fear and trembling.'''' 

Meanwhile, secondly — This anxiety arises from the 
thought of the immense importance of the work, self-con- 
sidered. 

It is a working out — what? Our comfort? Our 
prosperity ? Our happiness ? Yes, indeed, but more, 
oh, how much more ! It is the working out our salva- 
tion! The salvation of the soul! In one sense the 
impenitent man is lost already ; and it is a fearful prob- 
lem whether he will be saved. In every sense he is 
in dreadful peril, and there is unspeakable danger that 
he will finally be lost ! This work, to which we are 
called, is to escape from impending and everlasting de- 
struction. And such a work, of self-preservation, though 
it may be done with the earnest self-possession of true 
courage, is always done, must always be done, '"''with 
fear and trembling.'''' 

See that man in a burning house! Roused at mid- 
night by the alarm-cry, he rushes from his chamber to 
find all avenues of escape cut off by the advancing 
flames. See, now, how the whole man is instinct with 
self-preserving energy ! He ascends to the roof — he 
cries aloud for help — he fastens a rope to the tottering 
wall, and lets himself down through smoke and flame 
in the very strength of despair ! Now, you may admire 
his stanch courage ; but the man will tell you that his 
work for life was " with fear and trembling." 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



167 



See that bark upon the waters, on a lee-shore, in a 
night of storm, as the fierce hurricane drives it upon 
breakers ! Behold the imperiled mariner ! How he 
rouses himself in mighty energies, with rudder and sail, 
and anchor, to escape for his life ! Fearlessly resolute 
he may seem to you ; but to his own heart, at least, he 
is working with " fear and trembling." 

And so is it always when great interests are at stake. 
It is no time for sentimental or philosophic thought, 
when a precipice is crumbling at our feet, or an earth- 
quake is rocking the dwellings around us. Then, at 
least, it is time for those tremendous efforts which men 
put forth when the grave yawns in our path and death 
overshadows us. 

How, then, ought a man to labor, " when he works out 
his salvation/" When his immortal soul is in jeopardy ! 
When the fearful problem he is working out in the face 
of the universe is — whether he shall be saved, or lost, for- 
ever! When the heaven of blessedness is receding, as 
he gazes, farther and farther away, with its eternal 
weight of glory ! When the hell of despair is opening 
at his feet, and he seems tottering on its awful brink, 
and going down into it ! Verily, it becomes a man to 
work " with fear and trembling'''' when he " works out his 
salvation" It becomes a man to be anxious, to be 
alarmed, to be all in earnest, to be waking affrighted 
from his sinful dreams, when the flames that encircle 
his pillow are — eternal burnings ! To be putting forth 
the strength and the skill of his seamanship, when the 
tempest of God's wrath is dark on the waters, and to be 
shipwrecked in the storm is to be — " a castaway for- 
ever /" 



168 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



Moreover, thirdly — This anxiety arises from the 
thought, that this work of salvation is a work of great 
difficulty. 

To measure energies by exigencies, is the great law 
of life. The man who walks calm and tranquil on a 
plain, becomes powerfully excited when he climbs a 
precipice. Now, we say, it is a mighty and difficult 
work to be saved. I am aware that, in asserting this, 
I am probably contradicting a popular impression. We 
hear so much, in modern times, about the ease of salva- 
tion, that one is almost persuaded that " the offense of 
the cross" hath ceased ; and that a man goes to glory 
now, not walking as a pilgrim, but carried softly as a 
passenger. " To be saved is only to repent and be- 
lieve," say these men. And they say truly — it is only 
to repent and believe. But, then, where have they 
learned that this "repentance" and "faith" are such 
easy exercises ? 

Repentance is breaking off from sin, with a resolute 
set of the affections heavenward — and is this easy? 
For the proud man to become humble ; the licentious 
man to become pure ; the worldly-minded man to be- 
come heavenly ; the man covetous, cruel, faithless, god- 
less, to become faithful, and gentle, and holy, a follower 
of Jesus, a worshiper of the true God, in spirit and in 
truth — is this easy? To conquer those passions that 
since the world began have defied all the reasonings of 
philosophy, all the rewards and punishments of human 
tribunals — is this easy ? To cut off a right hand ; to 
pluck out a right eye ; to crucify the whole body of a 
carnal nature, as a mortified and dying thing, on the 
cross — is this easy? Did Paul find it easy, when, as 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



169 



one almost overborne in the wild tides of battle, lie 
cried out, " Oh, wretched man that I am ! who shall 
deliver me from the body of this death ?" 

Or is Faith easy ? " Faith " is trust for salvation in an 
unseen Christ. Is this easy? To feel ourselves to be 
nothing; to sink from all our self-righteousness; to see 
what is .invisible ; to hear what is inaudible ; to turn from 
all surrounding and sensible glories, and long for, and 
love only, the far away and eternal — is this easy? No, 
alas, oh, no ! It may seem so, indeed, to speculating and 
inexperienced philosophy. The prophet said unto Naa- 
man, " Go wash seven times in the Jordan, and thou 
shalt be healed." " Oh, how easy," say these men. But 
we say, No ! This was the very hardest thing in the 
world for that proud heart to do. He could have fought 
a hundred battles, and carried by storm a hundred walled 
cities, with less of struggle than it cost him to humble 
his haughty nature, to do the prophet's bidding. He 
could have conquered ten thousand mailed Israelites, 
with less of agonizing conflict than it cost him to conquer 
— himself! 

And so it is of salvation. It is an easy thing to feel a 
sentimental sadness over past errors; it is easy to join a 
church; it is easy to imagine we feel very happy; it is 
easy to utter eloquent prayers, and sing exulting hallelu- 
jahs. But to become a humble, penitent, faithful, de- 
voted, holy child of God r this is a hard thing. It is a 
race — a battle — a crucifixion of the flesh — a taking heaven 
by violence ! 

But, then, methinks I hear you say, "Though all this 
be hard, nay, impossible, without Divine assistance, yet, 
through the strengthening grace of God, it becomes alto- 
8 



170 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



gether easy." But what says my text ? How stands the 
argument in the apostolic thought? " God worketh in 
you to icill and to do" This the grand fact as to God's 
gracious assistance — but what the apostolic inference? 
Therefore, be unconcerned? be at ease in Zion? leave 
the whole earnest work of salvation to God, and only 
sing hallelujahs ? Does Paul reason thus ? Listen ! 
" God worketh in you, therefore worJc out your salvation 

WITH EEAR AND TREMBLING !" 

Oh, be instructed, ye wise men ! Paul's free grace 
had no tendency to licentiousness. The fact that salva- 
tion is all of grace — a work so immense that we can not 
take a step heavenward, save in the strength of Jehovah 
— this is the very reason why we should set about it, and 
continue in it, with mighty earnestness. This almighty 
agency within and around us, is a tremendous excitement 
to exertion. See the roused Lot fleeing from Sodom to 
Zoar ! Does he reason that, because the angels are draw- 
ing him by the hand, he need not exert himself? Ah, no, 
just the opposite. He says, "It must surely be an im- 
mense necessity that brings this heavenly ministry around 
me ; therefore, with all the power that is in me will I flee 
to the mountains !" 

And thus is it in salvation. If God worketh in me, 
then I see and know that all heaven is concerned for me. 
If God bend from his own throne to strengthen me, then 
it must be a fearful battle my poor arm is fighting — a 
tremendous tempest my frail bark is weathering ! And 
I must bestir myself. I must rouse myself to the utter- 
most. I must fling away the scabbard, as I spring to 
the conflict. I must gird myself in my mightiest seaman- 
ship, to bring my imperiled bark to the everlasting har- 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



171 



bor. This is the true argument. This is Paul's argument. 
Not finding, in the aid of Divine grace, an encouragement 
to idleness, but the rather an incitement to more earnest 
and anxious struggles — "working out my salvation tvith 
fear and trembling — for — for — it is God that worketh^ 
in me both to will and to do." ^ 

This, then, is the matter and the manner of the apos- 
tolic exhortation. Let us close with its shortest and 
simplest application. 

First — It is an exhortation to Christians. The text 
was addressed, originally, to believers in Philippi; and 
to professing Christians, in all time, it most solemnly 
appeals. A firm believer, as Paul was, in the great doc- 
trine of " the saints' perseverance," yet in his mind it had 
no tendency to lull into security. Though he could say, 
"I know in whom I have believed, and am persuaded that 
he is able to keep that zohich I have committed to him" 
nevertheless, to the very end of his life we find him, with 
all his intensest energies, stemming: the flood, and fig-hting- 
the battle, under the abiding and awful thought that, 
after all, he himself might be a castaioay. 

And if Paul was thus anxious, who of mortal men 
should be over-confident, and at ease in Zion. This very 
argument, wherewith we sometimes rock ourselves to 
slumber — " We have an almighty Saviour, and the Holy 
Ghost dwells in us," — this is just Paul's argument for 
mightier exertion. " Work out your own salvation with 
fear and trembling, for God worketh in you.'''' 

Yes, my brethren, it is yet an unsolved problem — 
whether any of us will be saved ! To us, with all its ter- 
rible meaning, comes this Divine commandment — " Work 
out your own salvation" Perhaps we have been greatly 



172 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



concerned about other men. Let us begin to be as greatly 
concerned for ourselves. Let us see that we are not, like 
Moses, leading others to a Canaan we ourselves shall only- 
die in sight of, and never, never enter. Alas, how many 
professing Christians have made shipwreck of the faith ! 
And from the fragments of ten thousand immortal argo- 
sies, that bestrew the whole shore of time, the awful warn- 
ing rises — " Work out, oh, work out, tour own salvatioii!" 

Yes, "ivork out your own salvation, with eear and 
trembling" — earnestly — anxiously! Christian life is a 
voyage across an ocean arched by dark skies and swept 
by fierce .storms. And ofttimes we behold, by the 
flashes of lightning, the tempest-tossed bark laboring 
fearfully with the rolling seas, and the roaring hurricane. 
And never, till across the raging flood, and within shel- 
ter of the everlasting hills, it hath cast anchor for eter- 
nity, do we feel certain, in any given case, that the soul 
hath escaped shipwreck. Oh, then, professing Chris- 
tians, rouse yourselves from this false and fatal security ! 
Fight — struggle — agonize ! Be anxious for yourselves / 

" Oh, watch, and fight, and pray, 
The battle ne'er give o'er ; 
Renew it boldly every day, 
And help Divine implore. 

" Ne'er think the victory won, 
Nor once at ease sit down ; 
Thy arduous work will not be done, 
Till thou hast got thy crown." 

" While God worketh in you to will and to do, of his 
own good pleasure, toork out your oion salvation with fear 
and trembling.'''' 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



173 



Meanwhile, secondly — The text appeals to impenitent 
sinners. And how fearful the point of the a fortiori 
application — "If the righteous scarcely be saved, where 
shall the ungodly and the sinner appear ?" 

Alas for the madness of the infatuation that, regarding 
salvation as a very easy work, puts it off, with all its 
tremendous interests, and infinite issues, to a sick-bed 
and a dying hour ! Alas, for the soul-destroying logic — 
that because the Son of God saves us, and the Spirit of 
God sanctifies us, therefore man has nothing to do but to 
wait for salvation ! Oh, no, no ! Salvation is a work — 
a mighty work — your own mighty work! And because 
" God worketh in you," therefore it is to be wrought out 
by yourselves the more instantly and earnestly, " with 
fear and trembling" 

"Faith in Christ'''' is not an idle sentiment. "Repent- 
ance " is not a passing spasm of sorrow, nor a poor, pal- 
try, superficial reformation. Salvation is a work, so big, 
so overwhelming, that, even while God works in the soul, 
that soul must work it out with fear and trembling. It 
is high time, then, you should be alarmed. Your immor- 
tal soul is in jeopardy ! Your feet are on slippery places ! 
You sleep and dream of heaven on a yawning precipice ! 

Oh, the folly, the unutterable madness of a soul that is 
not working out its salvation ! That casts all the great 
interests of eternity upon the fearful chance of a future 
repentance ! That can bear to look upward, and behold 
yonder blessed home of heaven, with all its far more ex- 
ceeding and eternal weight of glory, fading, slowly and 
surely, away forever ! That can venture to gaze down- 
ward, into that estate of wrath, and tribulation, and an- 
guish — drawing nearer, nearer — rising closer to the un- 



174 



GRACE AND WORKS. 



steady feet, with all its wild realities — moving beneath 
to meet its fearful coming — and yet sport on the brink, as 
if enamored of damnation ! 

Oh, what mean you ! Men, men, immortal men, 
awake from your slumbers ! This very day — this very 
hour — this very moment — ere the spirit that moves even 
now upon your hearts, grieved by your resistance, leaves 
you forever ! Now — now — just as you are — begin for 
your lives this great work of salvation ! 

Oh, we warn you, we beseech you, we entreat you — 
with all the strength God gives us — by all the motives 
God presses on your conscience — by the shortness and 
uncertainty of life — by the near approach of death — by 
the tremendous realities that make up eternity — all the 
shadows that make up its glooms — all the splendors that 
make up its glories — by all the vast interests that are at 
stake — your soul — your immortal self, tossed like a 
breaking bubble on a sea of storms — by all the mighty 
influences that are at work for your salvation — that 
father, that mother, that sister, that wife, that child, 
these praying, weeping Christians — yea, these shining 
angels, that all unseen hover over you — yea, the eternal 
God that worketh within you — the Father, with his love 
— the Son, with his precious blood — the Spirit, with his 
gentle influences — by the stupendous realities of all God's 
universe, which hem you in, and move around you, as if 
working only to save you — oh, by all these things, we 
pray you, we plead with you, we beseech you, that, 
" while God worketh in you to will and to do, you work 

OUT YOUR OWN SALVATION WITH FEAR AND TREMBLING." 



"THE DIVISION OF SPOIL." 



" And divide fh his spoils. 11 — Luke xi. 22. 

I separate these words from their connections, as 
containing a complete thought sufficient for present 
meditation. They occur in the winding up of our 
Lord's parable of " The strong man armed." That 
parable contains three great divisions ; and, as you 
read it, three distinct scenes seem passing before you. 

First — There is a noble palace, or stronghold, in- 
disputably in possession of its armed master ; and 
this represents the sad condition of that man over 
whose moral nature Satan maintains unweakened as- 
cendency. 

Secondly — There is the approach of a great con- 
queror to this stronghold, lifting his challenge at the 
portal — yea, storming it, and carrying it by assault, 
and taking captive its owner. And this represents 
the triumph of Christ over Satan, either in a regener- 
ated spirit or a redeemed world. 

Thirdly — There is a despoiling the conquered strong 
man of his armor, and a public distribution of all the 
stores and treasures taken in the fortress — as it is 
termed in the text, "A division of the spoil." 

Now, leaving for the present the first two pictures, 



176 



THE DIVISION OF SPOIL. 



we will consider this last and least pondered part of 
the record — "He divideth his spoil." 

These words at first surprise us. We are expressly 
told that the design of Christ's mission was " to destroy. 
the works of the devil ;" and, regarding this parable as 
illustrating this conflict, we should expect the record to 
be, that, having conquered a satanic fastness, Christ at 
once destroyed all its accumulated treasures. But not so. 
The Divine conqueror is here represented as not destroy- 
ing, but "dividing the spoil," i.e., employing for his 
own cause and glory every thing that, before the con- 
quest, Satan had been using for his own evil purposes. 
Just as in natural warfare, when military stores are 
taken, the conqueror makes use of them for his own 
further success. 

Now, this is the overlooked and apparently unim- 
portant point in the parable we wish practically to 
consider as setting forth this simple proposition — That 
Christ Jesus, in the victories of his grace, whether in- 
dividual or universal, turns to his own advantage, and 
employs for his own glory all those physical powers and 
intellectual endowments — that whole array of influence 
and engine which previously the great adversary had 
perverted and made powerful for evil. 

And for this thought we claim a twofold application, 
according to the view we take of the individual or uni- 
versal sense of the parable. 

First — We begin with the individual, as certainly the 
most obvious reference of the lesson — the case of a sinful 
soul conquered by Christ in the process of regeneration. 

And thus it serves to rectify some wrong conceptions 
often entertained of the nature of regeneration. Setting 



THE DIVISION OF SPOIL. 177 

out with the Bible representation^ of man by nature as 
totally depraved, and the new birth as making him a 
new creature, and ignoring the while the whole analogy 
of faith, wherein many of his natural virtues are com- 
mended in God's Word, we make often such repre- 
sentations of the unregenerate man as he himself knows 
to be false and unscriptural. 

He knows that he daily experiences many feelings and 
performs many acts that are both approved by an en- 
lightened conscience and enjoined in God's word. He 
provides for his household — he honors his parents — he 
hallows the Sabbath-day — he gives bread to the hungry 
—he feels within him great impulses of patriotism and 
philanthropy, and proves himself, by the facts of a well- 
tried life, a man of unsullied and uncompromising in- 
tegrity. And if you tell such a man that, self-considered 
(apart from the fact that his morality is not godliness), 
all these virtues are sinful, he will laugh you to scorn as 
a slanderer of your species, and a falsifier of the very 
principles and precepts of God's revealed law. And all 
this justly. When the Bible speaks of men as dead in 
sin and totally depraved, it refers to his entire alienation 
from God — to his absolute want of supreme love to his 
Maker. 

We are not concerned here with the argument, but 
only with our text's illustration of its truth. Here the 
representation of the great change wrought in the re- 
generated soul, is only a change in the sovereignty that 
overrules it. A change not in the house's furniture and 
appointments, but in their uses and ownership. The 
stronger man has not come to destroy what was in 

the fortress, but to rescue it all from the hands of the 
8* 



178 



THE DIVISION OF SPOIL. 



strong man, and turji it to his own purposes. Those 
very endowments of reason, imagination, wit, wealth, 
power — acquirements which before were exercised sin- 
fully, because, without godliness, Christ would now 
employ for man's good and God's glory — not destroying, 
but only " dividing the spoil." And this is the very idea 
we would have you entertain, because, the very idea the 
Bible gives you of regeneration. It does not make the 
man another creature, but only a new creature. And 
not even a new creature, in the sense of possessing new 
natural faculties, but only in the sense of their conse- 
cration unto a new service. The Gospel invitation is, 
that men come just as they are, with all their strong im- 
pulses and emotions within them, if they be only amove 
for God's glory and consecrate to Christ. We do not 
want the covetous man to abate in one tittle his desire 
for accumulation ; but rather to give a wider range and 
mightier power to that prostituted faculty, as, sanctified 
from its sinfulness, it impels, "to lay up treasure in 
heaven," and " become rich toward God." We do not 
expect the man seeking pleasure to annihilate the princi- 
ple implanted by God for great uses ; but, rather, to fill 
his soul with intenser longings, as he aspires unto those 
everlasting pleasures that are at God's right hand. We 
do not want the ambitious man to bow down his aspir- 
ing spirit to the low ends and aims of the multitude ; but 
would rather bid his soul God-speed in its bravest 
marchings — out-weeping Caesar for new worlds to con- 
quer for Jesus ; and reaching forth a sanctified hand to 
grasp the sceptre over the whole ten cities in the king- 
dom of God. 

We want the man of genius to repress no immortal 



THE DIVISION OF SPOIL. 179 



pulse now bounding within him, but rather give them 
all nobler play ; coining with all the fire in his eye and all 
the fervors of his spirit — first, casting them at Christ's 
feet in living consecration ; and then out-soaring the 
wing of all earthly inspiration in flight through the 
skies ! 

We want, in short, the very adornments of unsanctified 
life, wherewith Satan has beautified even his iron des- 
potism, only changed by regenerating grace from glory 
to glory, to furnish forth even loftier adornments for the 
blessed reign of Christ. 

We would not apply fagot or torch to a solitary 
one of the hoarded treasures of the " strong man ;" but 
rather, when the " stronger man " has carried the for- 
tress, would have them all consecrated to the display of 
his own great glory, as a victorious conqueror, " divid- 
ing his spoil" 

Ah, God does not demand merely the hearts love, but 
as well that of the mind, and the soul, and the strength ! 
God wants not merely the offerings of the tender af- 
fections; he claims as fully all the loftiest intellectual 
gifts and attainments — science with its profoundest dis- 
coveries ; eloquence with its grandest utterances ; poetry 
with its most glorious visions ; ambition with its kin- 
dling eye ; and genius with divinest power — all earn- 
estly busy in Jehovah's service — all flashing in adorn- 
ment of the doctrines of Christ. For, surely, there is no 
faculty natural to man, which at creation God did not set 
as a brilliant in Humanity's diadem. And though, alas ! 
by a sorrowful perversion, they have become servants 
unto uncleanness ; yet, if only once the strong man be 
mastered by the stronger, then as treasures consecrated 



180 



THE DIVISION OF SPOIL. 



unto his own high purposes, they shall be borne aloft 
in his final triumph, as the trophies of a returning con- 
queror, " dividing his spoils." 

Such, according to the theology of God's own book, 
is Gospel regeneration. And, here, ere we pass to the 
text's larger application, let me press this thought upon 
your conscience as a motive unto repentance. 

What is it to repent and believe, and thus to become 
Christians? Surely it is not, as on the one hand the bigot, 
and on the other the blasphemer, would teach, to yield to 
the power of a poor driveling fanaticism, in the self-sacri- 
fice and denial of all grand human impulses ! 

To be a Christian, is simply and truly to be the high- 
est style of man ! To have all the faculties and impulses 
of your nature lifted from the perishing things of earth, 
and accelerated in their movement toward the immense 
realities of eternity. In the very figure of the text, Christ 
represents himself as standing at the door of your closed 
hearts — i. e., at the barred portal of the strong man's pal- 
ace. And his purpose in demanding admission is, not that 
he may work destruction and desolation amid the famil- 
iar things that adorn its chambers. Oh, no ; he would 
enter only to conquer and bind the despot that enslaves 
you — to unshutter the darkened windows, and let in 
heavenly airs, and odors, and sunshine ; and, reviving in 
all their original beauty, and replacing in all their origi- 
nal glory, its magnificent adornments, transform it from 
the haunt of a demon to the home of a God ! 

But now let us pass from the individual to consider — • 

Secondly — The texfs wider and universal application. 
This satanic despotism over the human heart is in ex- 
act analogy with his despotism over the earth as man's 



THE DIVISION OF SPOIL. 181 



dwelling-place. The Bible everywhere represents this 
fallen spirit as practically " the god of this ■world. 1 ' 
And this revelation, observation everywhere proves true. 
So far as the practical life of the race is concerned — so 
far as regards any universal sense of his infinite presence 
■ — so far as manifest in any popular acknowledgment of 
his right to rule over the world, Jehovah might as well 
have yielded his throne to his great adversary, and re- 
tired, as a deposed sovereign, to some unrevoked realm 
of his immense empire. And, .therefore, the text-figure 
fitly represents this world as a grand fortress, or 
strongly guarded palace, wherein Satan, as a strong 
man, keeps his treasures at peace ! 

But if there be truth in other Bible revelations, all this 
is to cease. Presently there shall rise at the portal a 
heavenly challenge, and "the strong man" shall be mas- 
tered by " one stronger than he." This earth is not 
always to be garrisoned by Infernals ! God did not 
round it into beauty, and hang it amid the stars, and 
lavish such cost and skill in its architecture and adorn- 
ments, that it should forever be at peace under a despot- 
ism of demons ! No ! the time of change cometh — a 
deliverance draweth nigh ! "Lift up your heads, 0 ye 
gates • and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the 
King of glory shall come in." The kingdoms and 
dominions under the whole heavens are to become Im- 
manuel's, and this world become manifestly again the 
abode of a universally acknowledged Jehovah. All this 
we are assured of. All this we believe. But then, we do 
not believe that, as a result of this, earth is suddenly to be 
transfigured, as into another planet. Here, in the uni- 
versal as in the individual, we look for this great law of 



182 THE DIVISION OF SPOIL. 



conquest — that, having bound the strong man and taken 
away his armor, our glorious Redeemer will not destroy 
the spoil, but will only " divide the spoil." 

We judge that the world, under Messiah's reign, will 
be the world as it is, only redeemed from sin and re- 
established in, and filled with, all righteousness. 

Physically it will be the same world, but instead of 
working disobedience to the precepts of the Divine law, 
all natural agents and processes shall be consecrated to 
Christ ; and holiness to the Lord " shall be written on 
the bells of the horses." 

Intellectually it will be the same world, and all sciences 
and arts flourish, and poetry see visions, and eloquence 
utter prophecies ; but literature shall embalm with sweet 
spices the name of the Crucified, and science shall go 
forth along all its broad journeyings, only searching 
for God. 

Socially and politically, it will be the same ; and though 
all despotisms shall cease, and every oppressor's rod be 
broken, yet, as under the old Hebrew theocracy different 
civil polities successively obtained, so then there may be 
all present forms of government. But, high above finite 
magistracy shall rise one omnipotent enthronement, 
and monarchs, and princes, and presidents, and mighty 
men, shall be mighty men, and presidents, and kings unto 
God. 

Perhaps, ecclesiastically it will be the same. All sys- 
tems of false worship and corrupt faith will, of course, 
pass away; because, even as represented in this parable, 
they are not so much the enemy's spoil, to be divided, as 
his armor to be destroyed. And, therefore, we will not 
be misunderstood as hoping that any such false system 



THE DIVISION OF SPOIL. 



183 



(as, for example, the papacy) can be so regenerated as 
to become part of Christ's true Church. For, disguised, 
and modified, and humanized as it may be, in its very 
claim to infallibility it gives assurance that it will to the 
end remain the same monster that in centuries agone 
warmed its wan hands by the fires of martyrdom, and 
reeled frantic and drunken with the blood of God's mur- 
dered saints ! There are in it elements utterly incompat- 
ible with the true faith in Christ ; and notwithstanding 
all disguises, all crosses on battlements, and blazon of Di- 
vine names on lintel and threshold, it is yet a true fortress 
of the adversary. And as the great Captain of Salvation 
makes no compromises with the strong man, so surely 
Avill he carry his fortress by storm, and bind the adver- 
sary, and break in pieces his armor. 

And yet, even in respect of a system so false, we are 
not sure that there may not be spoil to be divided, as 
well as armor to be destroyed ! The very things which 
have made popery so mighty in old times — the zeal, and 
perseverance, and self-sacrificing devotion, and indomita- 
ble daring, and grand old Roman world-grasping ambi- 
tion — in a word, that whole matchless machinery, so 
wonderful in its contrivances, so mighty in its work, 
which belongs to it, beyond all Protestant rivalry, as 
aggressively missionary, may remain to bless the true 
Church when its own doom is sealed. 

And this is what in that regard, as of all false systems, 
reconciles us to their progress. They are like the mon- 
strous flora and fauna of the old geologic eras — parts of 
a progress toward intellectual life. They are all gather- 
ing treasures as a spoil for the Redeemer; and while, 
sometimes, the heart is sad as we see them laying deep 



184 THE DIVISION OF SPOIL. 



and broad foundations even in this Western world, yet 
Ave remember our parable and are comforted. And we 
say, "Go build great cathedrals, and strengthen mighty 
systems. You yet work and build for the Church of 
Christ. For there cometh presently a conqueror who 
' divideth the spoiV " 

But all this by the way. Speaking now of the redeemed 
world as to remain ecclesiastically like the present, we 
mean that the true Church of Christ will probably con- 
tinue formally very much what it is. We have no belief, 
indeed no desire, that the millennial Church shall take the 
form of one mighty denomination. Even John's glori- 
ous vision of that Church was not of one immense gate 
through which all the tribes passed into the Celestial 
City ; but of twelve separate gates, each inscribed with 
its own name, and kept by its own angel. Talk as we 
will of oi'ganic church unions, these denominational differ- 
ences are the Church's elements of strength ; and a wise 
man would no more do away with them, if he could, 
than he would consolidate all the companies of one army 
into one band, uniform in equipment and armor. 

Even in the millennial Church, there may be all the dis- 
tinct creeds and ceremonies the Church knows to-day. 
The Baptist may still go down to " many waters," and 
the Churchman delight in his beautiful liturgy, and the 
Arminian look fondly on man's free-will in salvation, 
and the Calvinist magnify God's glorious sovereignty; 
itineracy may marshal the Church's light troops in waste 
places, and Church establishments stand as grand for- 
tresses in great cities and kingdoms. All such things 
may be — probably will be. 

But then, blessed be God ! all creeds and ceremonies 



TEE DIVISION OF SPOIL. 185 



shall be consecrate to Christ — the strong man shall be 
bound ! — there will be no devil in them ! There may 
be Christian sects. There will be no unchristian secta- 
rianism. And the only strife between the fellow-soldiers 
of Christ, will be the generous rivalry in the old crusades, 
between the Lions of England and the Lilies of France, 
as to which should be placed first and highest on the 
sepulchre of Jesus ! 

We may not enlarge — enough has been said to illus- 
trate this universal application of the text. That the 
Gospel conquest of the world is to consist simply, in sub- 
duing its evil — that a division of the spoil, and not the 
destruction of the spoil, will be the law of the victory. 

And this is what fills us with joy, even amid its 
seeming strengthening of unbelief. Of this marvelous 
human progress, Satan does indeed seem, sometimes, 
the very leader of the hosts. And the march seems 
only away from Christ and from God. All the ener- 
gies of science and literature and philosophy are united 
in an effort to disprove the Bible. And the earth 
to-day, from its geologic foundation up to its astronomic 
arches, looks like the brave " palace of the strong man 
whose goods are at peace." To the eye of sense all this 
progress is toward infidelity. But blessed be God — the 
eye of faith, reading this parable as a prophecy, sees how 
all this gathered treasure of the " strong man," is only 
for " the spoil of the stronger." And therefore, unto all 
these despisers of God — unto mocking scribe and scorn- 
ful philosopher — every infidel explorer of the strata of 
earth, and every atheistic observer of the stars of heaven, 
do we say boldly, exultingly — while the inspiration is 
evil all your work is unto good ! You are only casting 



186 THE DIVISION OF SPOIL. 



up in the desert a highway for Immanuel! You are 
only gathering, from the stones beneath, and the stars 
above, gems of great price for the crown of the Re- 
deemer ! You are only accumulating in " the strong 
man's palace," " goods " — paintings, statuary, treasure ; 
sumptuous furniture and adornment — all good and glo- 
rious things for his triumphal coming who " divideth the 
spoil /" 

" Divideth the spoil!" What a precious truth it is ! 
Precious in reference to the things seen, which are tem- 
poral ; immeasurably precious in reference to things as 
yet unseen and eternal. 

There is evident allusion here to the winding-up of 
the present system of things at Christ's second coming. 
The language is metaphorical of the public triumphs 
accorded to old conquerors when returning from battle. 
It is prophetic of that coming day, when, all gracious 
purposes being accomplished, God's elect ones all 
gathered, God's enemies all subdued — the earth full of 
the goods of the strong man, shall appear rich in " spoils" 
for the triumph of its conqueror. And surely, then, 
when ascending from a burning world with the countless 
millions of the risen dead, and death and hell dragged 
after him as mighty captives, the Son of Man shall sit 
on his throne of judgment, and pronounce every doom, 
and distribute every trophy, then I say, will the text be 
fulfilled in all its blessed meaning, " He bindeth the strong 
ma?i, and divideth his sp>oils J 

" The Spoils !" i. e., the trophies taken in battle, to 
. be publicly displayed in the face of the universe ! 
Just as in the old Roman "triumphs," following the 
golden chariot of the conqueror, came the kings and 



THE DIVISION OF SPOIL. 187 



princes, and the long train of noble captives, taken in 
battle ; and, borne in display, came the " spoils " of 
cities and kingdoms — gold and jewels and costly array ; 
old banners ; brave chariots ; thrones of power and 
diadems of glory : so in that day of Christ'^ manifesta- 
tion, " he ha ving spoiled principalities and powers, shall 
make a show of them, triumpjhing openly over them." 
And then when, as loyal subjects recaptured from stern 
bondage, shall come the great company of the redeemed, 
and as the spoil of spiritual cities and kingdoms, shall 
be seen, all the old satanic treasure and armor, reconse- 
crate unto godliness, and when in the awful imagery of 
revelation, " Death and hell as bound captives shall be 
themselves cast into hell," then verily unto Christ, 
shall there be " made a show of them " — a triumph with 
trophies ! — a display of the spoils ! 

But not a display only. — "He divideth his spoils /" 
We can not tell what it means — that distribution 
of all the trophies of redeeming power and grace, when 
" having put all enemies under his feet," Christ " shall 
deliver up the kingdom to God, even the Father." 
Imagination trembles as it lifts wing to the thought of 
some such distribution, even among the persons of the 
adorable God-head, of the glories of a consummated 
Gospel ! 

But a simpler thought to us is — that all who have 
shared in Gospel toil shall share as well in its tri- 
umphs. Unto the angels sent to minister unto the 
heirs of salvation shall be glorious recompense. And 
richer and nobler the reward as unto risen spirits 
sitting on thrones — to all " who have followed the Son 
of Man in the regeneration." 



188 THE DIVISION OF SPOIL. 



And though we can not understand these scriptural 
intimations now, — yet we shall understand it all at 
last. And when, in our high places before the throne, 
we perceive how even the eternal Persons of the God- 
head were all glorified by the Gospel, and how all 
unfallen angels as they shared in the ministry shall 
share in the manifestation — and how every child of God, 
according to his work, shall reign over the " one city," 
or the " ten cities " of God's kingdom — then will the 
redeemed and risen man feel all the blessed meaning 
of the announcement "He divideth his spoil" "He di- 
videth his spoil." 

Meanwhile, one present practical lesson has the text 
to us all to-day, and although of all its truths the 
smallest and simplest, it is to us, individually, the most 
solemn. 

In one sense all mankind may be regarded as thus the 
spoil of this great Conqueror. Even now as spirits 
unto whom salvation is offered on the ground of Christ's 
victory — and more strictly in the end, as all alike de- 
livered by the general resurrection from the destroyer's 
'stronghold, all are, in a sense, trophies of Christ's 
mediatorial triumph. 

And think of it, then ! oh, ye immortal creatures of 
God, that will not have Christ to reign over you ! 
think of this awful oracle, u He divideth the spoil." 

As in the public triumph of the old Roman conqueror, 
the long train of captives following his chariot, marched 
to widely different destinies — and some were doomed 
to death — and some were admitted to noble Roman 
citizenship when the pageant was ended. 

So the Bible declares it shall be in Christ's great 



THE DIVISION OF SPOIL. 189 



day of manifestation. And oh, in that solemn hour, 
when that multitude of the redeemed ascend, with palm 
and white robe and exulting hallelujah, with the Lord 
unto the kingdom of God, even the Father ; and alas ! 
alas ! they whose names were not written in the Lamb's 
book of life, part from that glorious throng forever; 
passing mournfully away unto their destiny of darkness — 
then shall we understand another and an awful meaning 
in the words, u lie divideth his spoils" "He dividetii 
his spoils" 



KEDEMPTION. 



" To redeem them that were under the lavj." — G-alatians, iv. 5. 

These words in their connections, set forth both the 
design and result of our Saviour's incarnation and sacri- 
fice. Separate from the context they exhibit in a striking 
aspect the great truth of human redemption. The word 
"redeem" had, in apostolic times, a most impressive 
meaning. It denoted the buying back from captivity a 
bondman or slave. And, therefore, in apostolic rhetoric, 
man by nature is here represented as a being confined in 
a strong dungeon. God's law is spoken of as a fetter or 
chain, binding a condemned spirit unto sure and speedy 
punishment. And Christ Jesus is set forth as a gracious 
Saviour, coming with both price and power to ransom 
and deliver. These two parts of the figure should be 
considered in order. 

First — Here is the Divine law as a bondage or im- 
prisonment. A principle, or power, hemming the sinful 
soul in and insuring its destruction. And this simple, 
but startling thought underlies, as a foundation, all apos- 
tolic theology. Of the immaculate holiness' of that 
Divine law, and the necessity of its triumphant vindi- 
cation, they were ever thinking. Of this we think too 
little, or think only practically to deny it. Why, we 
ask, should an immortal creature perish for violating a 



REDEMPTION. 



191 



Divine precept ? Is not God infinitely good, infinitely 
glorious ; and can a thought, word, deed, of a poor finite 
creature either injure or incense him? Surely these 
Divine threatenings will never be executed ! This law 
is no more than a cloud-belt round about the creature, 
appealing to his fears, as a present restraint, but pres- 
ently to dissolve, leaving the forgiven spirit all bathed in 
the glorious brightness of the loving kindness of God ! 
Bat alas for our misconception ! Law — that substantial 
and sublime thing. Law, a cloud, presently to vanish ! 
Ah me ! it is any thing else ! The very word " law " 
means something fixed, established, immutable. And 
as everywhere seen in the Divine government, the thing 
" law " is the most permanent and immutable of all 
things. 

We observe this in regard even of the lowest physical 
laws of the universe. Take the law of germination — 
the transmission of vegetable life through the earthly 
flora — that Divine ordinance at creation : " That grass 
and herb and tree should yield seed after their kind, 
whose seed is in itself after its kind and observe 
with what immutable power it reigns over its broad 
domain. All the physical changes since creation have 
not abated jot or tittle of its meaning. The oak and 
the cedar are now in form, in development, yea, in 
the color and fibre of spray and leaf, precisely the oak 
and the cedar of the primal Eden-woodlands. And the 
odors we breathe in spring-time are from the same 
flowers that made fair and fragrant the garden when 
the first man walked with his Maker. And upon our 
thousand hills the cattle feed upon the self-same grasses 
that fattened the living creatures to which Adam gave 



192 



REDEMPTION'. 



names. Around every seed as it came from the creative 
hand was bound as an iron fetter that thing we call 
"law." And if we find a solitary one that has, since 
the time of the Pharaohs, lain still and sere in a 
mummy's shroud, we know that, if placed in conditions 
of growth, it will yield to the resistless ordinance and 
burst into exactly the leaf and flower that made the old 
Nile beautiful four thousand years agone. All the men 
of the world, with all their power and skill of chemistry 
and magic, can not produce a rose from a lily seed, nor 
a pomegranate frora a fig-tree. Xor is this natural 
law without a mighty and merciful meaning. On its 
steadfastness rests the hope of creation. Let the 
principle of specific life, shut up in the husk of a 
grass-seed, escape out of its adamantine prison-house, 
and no more by Divine compulsion produce after 
its kind — and the husbandman stands aghast and 
despairing in his labor, for he may find to-morrow his 
corn ripening into tares, and the fruit of his pleasant 
orchards bitter and deadly as the clusters of Sodom. 
And so the iron law that closes round that vegetable life 
is a monition of Divine love rising between our race and 
despair and annihilation ! 

Or take the law of gravitation — that mysterious prin- 
ciple by which all matter attracts and is attracted 
directly as the mass, and inversely as the square of the 
distance — and observe with how absolute and immu- 
table a power it reigns over the universe. Brooding 
over the old chaos, the Divine Spirit imparted the 
power, or rather promulgated the law, to remain to 
the end of time, inviolable and universal ; and, yielding 
to its influence, that old chaos was radiantly transfigured. 



REDEMPTION. 



193 



The nebular fire-mist consolidated and rounded into 
stars and systems and clusters, and, the while, every 
separate world grew shapely and beautiful. The moun- 
tains rose up in their majesty, and the waters sparkled 
and murmured, and, instead of the old waste, emptiness, 
confusion, there appeared fair bright homes for living 
and joyous creatures, and over all as a glorious universe, 
" the morning stars sang together, and all the Sons 
of God shouted for joy." Nor have all subsequent ages 
weakened in one jot or tittle that great primal ordi- 
nance. To-day yonder mountains stand on their founda- 
tions, and the old sea tosses itself, and all the stars of 
heaven traverse their great paths under the resistless rule 
of this mysterious gravitation. Every particle of matter 
as it came from the Creator's hand Avas bound by it as 
with an iron fetter. And there is no power, nor wisdom, 
nor device of man that can for a solitary moment free the 
smallest material atom from that grand physical law. 
Some dew-drop that sparkled in some flower's fair bell in 
the old Paradise, may have been changed into a thousand 
shapes, and passed into a thousand combinations. It fell 
perhaps into the earth, and was taken up by vegetable 
absorbents, and became part of a mighty tree. Then, as 
with long centuries, the living organism moldered, it may 
have been liberated, and gone up as vapor to the clouds, 
and been driven away by winds, and dashed about the 
stormy oceans, and for a thousand years, perhaps, been 
frozen in the heart of some ice-field, in the great polar 
night. Nevertheless, if you bring that water-drop 
again into its primal conditions, it will round itself and 
poise itself and sparkle precisely as in the first hour 
when it bedewed the fair flower of Paradise. And 
9 



194 



REDEMPTION. 



so of all matter that makes up the universe. Never has 
the minutest atom failed of obedience to the law of its 
being. And though we may never have considered the 
beneficence of this unwavering loyalty, yet upon it mani- 
festly depend all the order and beauty and life of the uni- 
verse. For, let it be seen and understood that the tiniest 
mote in the sunbeam has broken that fetter and escaped 
out of that prison-house ; let the wind shake a single dew- 
drop from a flower, and that drop not fall to the earth, 
but float away in thin air unsupported ; and what then ? 
Alas, then, a palpable suspension, or destruction, of the 
great law of gravitation ! And then the rivers will cease 
to murmur, and the mountains will shake on their deep 
foundations, and the roused ocean burst its chain and its 
prison-house, and rush in a devouring flood over earth's 
islands and continents, and the stars of heaven will 
dash wildly from their courses, and all the lights of the 
universe go out in great darkness, arid all created life 
perish forever ! 

And so again that iron law, that binds this dead 
matter as an omnipotent fetter, rises as an adamantine 
bulwark between a living universe and the awful gulf 
of despair and annihilation. So that, however unimport- 
ant it may at first seem, whether a rain-drop falls to the 
earth, or floats unsupported in air ; yet, upon reflection, 
the issues involved seem momentous, and you lift heart 
and voice in thanksgiving, that even all the material 
things God hath created are inexorably under law ! 

And from this principle in the natural, how plain the 
a fortiori argument for the supremacy and vindication of 
those laws which make up God's moral administration. 
A sin committed and not punished would be, in that 



REDEMPTION'. 



195 



regard, just what the imponderous rain-drop or the 
growth of tares from seed-corn would be in a natural 
world — a demonstration of the mutable and unrighteous 
character, both of the universal laws and their Omnipotent 
Lawgiver. One evil act, or word, or thought, per- 
mitted unpunished ; and then all such iniquities would 
have Divine license and sanction. Sin, the great de- 
stroyer, would spread as a deadly pestilence throughout 
all worlds. The mighty spirits of evil would cast off every 
chain and escape all imprisonment, free to work their 
abominations amid all those bright worlds which con- 
stitute the many mansions in the House of our Great 
Father — and those white robes would be exchanged for 
sackcloth, and those hallelujahs for blasphemies. Wild 
anarchy would take the place of God's beneficent sov- 
ereignty, and every bright angel become a devil, and 
every fair w r orld a hell ! 

Yes, my hearers, law is no insignificant thing, to be 
broken with impunity. It is an immutable, adamantine, 
omnipotent ordinance, set to guard all great and uni- 
versal interests — lifting itself as an impassable barrier 
between the domains of sin and holiness, disloyalty and 
love. And therefore, so long as Jehovah reigns, is never 
to be relaxed in one tittle of its righteous requirements, 
or defrauded of its full and triumphant vindication. 

All things made by God, from the atom in the air to 
the glorious archangel, were placed, at the first, and will 
remain to the end, inexorably "under law." And 
therefore the apostle, in the strong metaphor of the text, 
represents the condition of an ungodly man, as one 
around whom this immutable and everlasting law is 
bound as an iron fetter, and built as an adamantine 



195 



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prison-house, from which he can not escape, unless by- 
some Divine and Omnipotent deliverance. 

" Tinder 'law /" '"'■ under law!" Verily language hath no 
more startling image than this ! For " law " is seen 
here to be only a manifestation ; only another form of 
that Omnipotence that holds the universe in equipoise. 
And if in one jot or tittle its requirements have been 
violated, then all that Omnipotence is pledged, yea, is 
already at work in its vindication. And the heart re- 
coils at the thought of a finite violater thus "under 
the law." 

And this brings us to consider the other part of this 
apostolic figure, wherein unto the soul thus hopelessly 
imprisoned, Christ Jesus is represented as a deliverer, 
coming both with price and power to work out salva- 
tion — " to redeem ! — to redeem them that were under the 
law" 

And the figure illustrates strikingly the meaning of 
redemption. It is something more than deliverance. 
Our Saviour is not represented as coining in arbitrary 
omnipotence to open the prison-door" and preach liberty 
to the captive. For this were an abrogation of law, and 
not its vindication. But he comes to redeem men. 
The word is " redemption" — i. e., a buying back — not a 
wresting by power, but a release by purchase. It is not 
the advent of an armed champion to lift up his challenge 
at the prison-door, and carry the stronghold by assault ; 
but the advent of a Mediator, to satisfy every claim, and 
fulfill every condition of the law which is violated, exten- 
uating nothing of the captive's guilt — disputing none of 
the law's demands — prepared to meet those demands in 
every jot and tittle, so that if it were possible to dis- 



REDE MP TION. 



197 



tinguish between the Divine attributes, it would be rather 
the justice of God than his mercy, which loosens the 
fetter and unbars the dungeon. 

"Redemption!" "Redemption!" This is the word! 
Such a vindication of the law in the face of the universe 
as strengthens the universal faith in its steadfastness ! 
Mediation ! Substitution ! This is the mighty truth ! 
Not a breaking of the law, but a fufilling it in behalf of 
us ! Making manifest its tremendous power even in the 
very act of deliverance — as in a beneficent rescue from 
some great natural law. Take the law of gravitation. 
Imagine a child, abroad on a holiday in some Alpine val- 
ley, joyously watching summer-birds, or gathering wild 
flowers ; when suddenly, far above, some elemental 
agency loosens the avalanche, and downward in awful 
momentum, it rushes toward the imperiled child ! Now, 
suppose that infant could stand up in the path of that de- 
stroyer, and, putting forth its feeble hand, stop it, and 
roll it backward ! Then, though the fond mother would 
exult in the. deliverance, yet all human faith would be 
shaken in the steadfastness of the great law, and this 
world, and all worlds, be flung back into chaos. But 
instead of this, suppose, at the first sound of that de- 
scending destruction, the father, thoughtful of his child, 
had sprung to the rescue — bounding from rock to rock, 
reckless of precipices and chasms — reaching the imperil- 
ed not a moment too soon, snatching it from the very 
jaws of death, and springing backward, bleeding, breath- 
less, into the shelter of some adamantine cavern, had 
come forth when the mighty terror had gone by, bearing 
the beloved and saved one — then the cry of gladness fill- 
ing all that stormy air, would be no more in praise of 



198 



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human love than of the might and majesty of that glori- 
ous thing — law ! 

And thus is it in salvation. The claim of God's holy- 
law is in no sense set aside or weakened ! Christ Jesus, 
for us, bears all its penalty — fulfills all its requirements. 
And the universe beholds the amazing fact of substitu- 
tion, assured that the righteousness of God is absolute 
and immutable, and exults that, even in the deliverance 
of the sinner, the law is magnified in the punishment of 
sin. 

" Redemption /" " Redemption !" This is the over- 
whelming thought ! We were " under the law " — " sold 
under sin " — conquered and carried away captive ! Bound 
in iron fetters ! Cast into adamantine dungeons ! Around 
us, as bulwarks which no finite power could shake or scale, 
rose the infinite attributes of God, hemming us in unto 
destruction. And when the Infinite Deliverer came, it was 
not with almighty power to rock the dungeon into ruins, 
but it was in omnipotent and self-sacrificing love, to ran- 
som us, as a monarch might ransom a beloved child, with 
the full price of his kingdom. 

" He was wounded for our transgressions." " lie was 
bruised for our iniquities.'''' " He bore the sins of many? 
" The Lord laid on him the iniquity of us all? " We are 
redeemed! redeemed, not with corruptible things, as silver 
and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ? And 
looking on the immensity of that Divine offering, In- 
finite Justice said " It is enough." And the iron fet- 
ters were loosed, and the gates opened, and we walked 
forth redeemed ones; and that tremendous thing — 
Law — stood, not defrauded, not dishonored, but vindi- 
cated ! And the universe exulted not more that man 



REDEMPTION-. 



199 



was saved, than that God was glorified in his salvation. 
And there was a new song heard in heaven, more trans- 
porting in its splendor and power than all its old choral 
symphonies — a song of praise "unto him that was slain, 
that he might redeem with his blood y" and on earth, in- 
stead of the anguish of despair, there was the rapture of 
deliverance, when in the fullness of time God sent forth 
his Son, not to destroy the law, but, by fulfilling it, glo- 
riously "to redeem them that were under the law." 

These, then, are the two truths which the text's meta- 
phor illustrates: The law an imprisonment! Christ Jesus 
a Redeemer! 

Yet each should receive at our hands its just personal 
application: 1. If we are imiDenitent and unpardoned men, 
let us at least consider seriously our true estate of dark 
and unsheltered condemnation. "You are under the 
law !" and as the most necessary and certain of all things, 
that law must be vindicated. If you will not accept of 
redemption as offered in Christ, yours is no part in salva- 
tion. For if God should conform to the popular theology, 
saving sinful man otherwise, it would be not according 
to law, but against law ! Now law is the very life, yea, 
the very substance of the universe. Remitted or relaxed, 
it goes back to chaos. And so it stands as an adamantine 
bulwark around all spheres and forms and processes of 
life ! And never since creation has an iota of its require- 
ments been remitted ; and there is not a mote floating in 
the sunshine, nor a dew-drop sparkling in a flower's cup, 
that hath not, through all earth's long years, carefully as 
if all creation's interests hinged on its obedience, been 
omnipotently, divinely hemmed in — " under law." 

And surely, then, that moral law which condemns the 



200 



REDEMPTION. 



ungodly, guarding as it does all the spiritual interests of 
all creatures, shall not fail in one jot or tittle, till all be 
fulfilled ! And so we warn you of your terrible condition ! 

Law — L'aio. What a fearful thing it is in its aspects 
toward transgression! Even human law, weak, uncer- 
tain, mutable, imperfect — yet how its violator recoils, if 
it hem him in to destruction ! See yonder ! through the 
dark nig-ht hurries a trembling fugitive! That man's 
hands are stained with blood. In silence and solitude, 
with no human eye to see, he struck the fatal blow, and 
now on swift foot turns from the face of the dead man ! 
But, alas for him, the avenger of blood is on his track ! 
Law! Law! that inexorable power of retribution — with 
an eye that gathers evidence from a footprint in earth, 
or a stain in water, or a whisper in air — is following his 
footsteps, and will find him and lay a mighty hand on 
him, and bind him in iron fetters which no power can 
break, and consign him to dungeons whence no skill can 
deliver. 

And if human law is terrible, what think ye of Divine 
law ? God's natural laws are fearful ! You see a fair 
child gathering flowers on the brink of a precipice; sing- 
ing its glad songs and weaving its dewy garlands, it 
approaches the dizzy verge ! Far out, in a cleft of a rock, 
grows a tempting violet ; the child sees it, longs for it — 
reaches for it — reaches too far ! See, its little feet slip ! 
and you shudder, recoil, cry out with terror! Why? Is 
not God merciful? Are not God's providences gracious? 
Yes, indeed; but even God's merciful providences are 
according to immutable ordinances. That child is under 
laio. The law, that holds the universe together, and is 
as inexorable as its Maker, hems it in, and presses on it, 



REDEMPTION. 



201 



and will dash it to destruction. And do you think 
God's moral laws are narrower in their play, or 
weaker in their pressure? O, ungodly man ! be alarmed 
for yourself! You are pursuing your chosen courses 
under law-^" under law!" You are gathering flowers 
of sin upon precipices, and below are unfathomed depths 
of indignation and anguish ; and the moral law that 
binds into one rejoicing universe all sinless ranks of life, 
is over you, and around you, and pressing you down to 
destruction, and at the next footstep your feet may slide, 
and there be none to deliver! Oh, the overwhelming 
thought! Beings passing to immortality under law — 
"under law?\ 

2. Meantime, unto the believing and penitent soul the 
text is full of consolation. We were under the laiv, but 
Christ hath redeemed us ! Redeemed! Redeemed! Oh, 
what a word it is ! Saved ! Saved ! How the very 
thought thrills us ! A child saved from a burning 
house ! From foundation to roof swept the red surges 
hemming him in unto destruction ! But right through 
the encircling fire rushed a strong deliverer, reckless of 
danger, to restore it in joyous life to the mother's loving 
heart ! Saved ! Saved ! A man overboard, in a night 
of storm, lifting one despairing cry upon the rushing 
wind, and sinking, in despairing anguish, in the devour- 
ing sea ! But, behold ! a life-boat lowered, manned, 
darting like a sea-bird through the blinding spray, and 
strong arms outstretched to snatch the victim from the 
very jaws of death ! Saved! saved! saved! Oh, what 
a word it is ! And yet thus, O children of God, are you 
saved from the unfathomed ocean and the unquenchable 
fire ! Saved, saved forever ! Oh, what gratitude be- 



202 



REDEMPTION. 



comes its ! "What consecration ! What deep, adoring 
love ! We lay in that awful dungeon ! there was no bright- 
ening ray ; no whispering voice in the thick darkness ; the 
cankering iron ate into the shrinking flesh ; the adaman- 
tine bulwarks shut us in unto despairing anguish. Law 
— Law ! God's great, righteous, inexorable, condemning 
law overshadowed us, closed round us, pressed upon us. 
" We were under the law." 

But we are saved ! " Redeemed !" Bought back ! A 
glorious light flashed through the prison-house ! The 
heavy chains fell off ! The awful portals opened ! And 
wmerefore? Whence the marvel of this great deliver- 
ance? Behold! Behold! A glorious Form stands with- 
out ! In his hands a precious ransom — all the riches, 
all the raptures, all the glories that were his with 
the Father, before the world was, lavished on our re- 
demption. " He that was so rich, now so poor, that 
through his poverty we might be rich.'''' See ! where the 
eternal diadem glittered, there is a crown of thorns ! See, 
the hand that made the world and wielded heaven's 
sceptre, bleeds with the piercing nail! He — he — hath 
redeemed us by his blood — his own precious blood ! Oh, 
this picture, this overwhelming picture ! An eternal dun- 
geon and a Divine Redeemer ! Oh, weep, these eyes of 
mine ! Break, break this cold heart ! Send heavenward 
your exulting hallelujahs, O dumb lips! Rise, expand, 
exult, soar, triumph, O ransomed spirit! "For Christ 
hath redeemed them that were under the law/" 



THE CHILD-TEACHEE. 



" At the same time came the disciples unto Jesus, saying, Who is the 
greatest in the kingdom of heaven ? 

" And Jjsus call id a tilth child uito him, and set him in the midst of 
them, 

"And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become 
as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.' 1 '' — Mat- 
thew, xviii. 1, 2, 3. 

This passage illustrates the beautiful simplicity of our 
Saviour's teaching. It could have occurred in no history 
but his own. No prophet, no apostle, no inspired man, 
no uninspired preacher, would so have answered the 
great question propounded by the disciples. 

Whatever be our notion of what is here meant by 
"the kingdom of heaven," whether Christ's temporal 
reign on the earth, or the Gospel dispensation, or the 
true glories of the eternal world, had the question been 
put to another, the answer would have involved the 
metaphysics of a regenerated nature. A modern preacher 
certainly would have sought out what seemed to him 
the loftier excellencies of apostles and apostolic men — 
Peter's boldness, and John's love, and Paul's ardor — 
the confessor's steadfastness, and the martyr's daring — ■ 
saying, these are the elements of true Christian greatness. 
He would have summoned, in imagination, from eternity 



204: 



THE CHILD-TEA CHER. 



the spirits of just men made perfect ; and as in vision 
they moved before the eye — Abraham and Moses, and 
Elijah and Daniel — he would have pointed to the glorious 
procession, and cried : " Behold ! such are the great ones 
in the kingdom of God." 

But not so Jesus. The disciples asked him the ques- 
tion, and instead, as we should have expected, of recall- 
ing to their minds Moses and Elias, who, in the Mount 
of Transfiguration, had just passed before them as great 
chieftains of Immortality, he looked around upon his 
audience, and seeing a little child, lifted it gently in his 
arms, and said to the amazed disciples : " Behold ! such 
are the great ones in the kingdom of heaven." , 

Now, it is this simple act of the great Teacher we 
would at present consider. We would let a little child 
teach you about the kingdom of God. Of course, we 
would not be misunderstood to intimate that a little 
child, if unregenerated, is in any sense fitted for that 
kingdom. We do indeed believe that all who die in 
infancy are at once translated to heaven. And yet this 
we are assured is a result of Divine grace through the 
Son's sacrifice and the Spirit's sanctification ; because 
the great Shepherd came traveling in the greatness of 
his strength to bear the tender lambs in his arms from 
life's wilderness into green pastures and beside still 
waters. 

Though there be unquestionably a religious training 
for children, so that, instead of being left to grow up in 
wickedness, with the hope that by and by God will re- 
generate them, children ought from their birth to be 
brought up " in the nurture and admonition of the Lord;" 
nevertheless, train them as you will, without the miracle 



THE CHILD- TEA CHER. 



205 



of converting grace, just because they are born with a 
sinful nature, they will always and inevitably grow up 
sinners. 

Therefore, in what may be said hereafter, we shall not 
be understood as intimating that a child unconverted is 
either a great or a little one in the kingdom of heaven. 
We are only using such a child after the example of our 
Divine Master, as illustrating, in its natural exercises 
and emotions, the graces of such as are literally " great 
in the kingdom of God." Let us then select a few prom- 
inent Christian excellencies and illustrate their nature 
and power by the analogical emotions so manifest in 
childhood. 

First. Let us begin with Faith — the grand foundation 
of all Christian character. And whether you regard 
saving or speculative faith, let'a little child illustrate the 
true nature and excellence of the principle. 

1st. Begin with speculative or intellectual faith, and 
what is it as manifested in a child ? Why, simply, a 
firm reliance on parental testimony. Let a father tell a 
child that there is a God, and spite of a thousand learned 
infidels, he will believe it. Let a mother declare that 
there is a heaven, and the child never questions it. Let 
a father teach that the earth is round, and the child 
believes, though he can not comprehend it. Let the 
mother say that the sun only seems to move, while it 
really stands still, and the child accepts the truth, though 
it contradict his senses. Feeling assured of parental 
knowledge and veracity, and conscious of his own ignor- 
ance, he holds his judgment in abeyance to that higher 
wisdom. This, we say, is speculative, or doctrinal, faith 
in a child — Believing what a father says just because he 



206 



THE CHILD- TEA GHEE. 



says it. And such, as a Christian grace, is that doctrinal 
faith which makes a man great in the kingdom of heaven. 

A Christian is God's little child, and the Bible is the 
word of his heavenly Father. And if he have great 
faith, he believes to the full all it reveals to him. He 
must indeed assure himself that it is a revelation. God 
asks no man — yea, allows no man — to accept as a revela- 
tion any thing without evidence. He commands us even 
" to try the spirits." And if a seeming archangel should 
bring me a letter, apparently from heaven, still, before I 
receive it, I must demand proof that it is a true angel 
and a veritable revelation. 

But once satisfied that the Bible is God's Word, a 
Christian has nothing more to do than to understand 
and believe it. He may not be able to comprehend its 
truths, either separate or in combination, yet he will 
believe them all unhesitatingly on the Divine assurance ; 
just as a child believes, on his father's word, that the earth 
is a globe, though, for his life, he can not understand why 
the men and the cities do not fall off at the antipodes. 

Such is the essence and exhibition of a child's specula- 
tive faith. Let us learn the great lesson ! Let this little 
child preach to all men about the kingdom of heaven ! 
"VY ould that we could gather together all the proud and 
philosophic champions of the Church's theologic antago- 
nisms — men that set up their own judgments as the meas- 
ure of their faith, determined to believe no truth in itself 
and no system of truth in its connections which they can 
not understand ; doubtful of the doctrine of the Trinity, 
and the Incarnation, and the Resurrection, because they 
can not comprehend them ; or going about to modify 
Scripture antagonisms; the doctrine of Divine sover- 



THE CHILD-TEACHER. 207 



eignty, on the one hand, lest it should infringe man's 
free agency ; or, on the other, the doctrine of free agency, 
lest it should limit Divine sovereignty ; magnifying jus- 
tification by faith, on the one hand, till there be no room 
for good works ; or, on the other, good works, till simple 
faith without works seem a fanaticism. Men, in short, 
thus virtually putting God's glorious Word to the tor- 
ture, that its utterances may be forced to square with 
their carnal philosophies ; whose theological position is 
rather that of Rabbis teaching Christ, than of disciples 
sitting at his feet and receiving his words trustfully. 
Would, I say, I could gather all such men into one 
great assembly and let this little child preach to them 
about this true Christian faith ! Ah ! how that young- 
lip would be curled in holy scorn, and that hand be 
clinched in holy wrath, as he cried : " Shame, shame 
upon you, you grown-up children of the Omniscient Je- 
hovah, thus wanting implicit faith in the Divine oracles ! 
Why, I believe my mortal father, whether I understand 
all his words or not, yet I fully believe him, and can not 
you believe' your great and glorious and eternal Father?" 
Such is a child's faith. And just this unquestioning, 
rejoicing belief in our heavenly Father's oracles is the 
faith that makes a man a chief in the kingdom of heaven. 

2d. Or take saving faith — that gracious . exercise in 
which the soul rests solely and entirely on Christ for 
salvation ; and let a little child illustrate it. 

Now, you are all aware how many sermons have been 
preached and volumes written on this subject of justify- 
ing faith. How much learned disputation has gone on 
in the Church about the philosophy of the Atonement, 
whereon such faith rests, and what ponderous tomes of 



208 



THE CHILD- TEA CHER. 



metaphysics have been written concerning the various 
mental exercises which make up this grand composite of 
faith. And yet, so truly has all this proved only a dark- 
ening of counsel by words without knowledge, that when 
the awakened soul, conscious of its need of a great Sa- 
viour, comes to these Rabbis of theology, asking ear- 
nestty : " What it is to believe unto salvation ?" It re- 
ceives responses so Delphian in ambitious metaphysics, 
that it turns away in despair of apprehending the simple 
nature of faith. 

But come away, O desponding soul! to the child- 
preacher. Behold, a fire has broken out in a street of 
your city ! A house is enveloped in flames ; and see, a 
little boy, forgotten for a moment in the confusion of 
escape, stands at the lofty casement imploring aid. 
And now, through the excited crowd rushes the tender 
father, he cries : — " My child, do not be afraid ! I have 
come to save you ; let yourself down from the casement, 
and then drop without fear into my arms." 

And now what does this boy do? Does he pause 
with idle questionings about the nature of fire -in general, 
or the origin of this fire in particular, or the reason why 
his father would save him in this way, or indeed with 
any foolish questions at all ? Oh, no ; the boy does one 
thing only. He obeys simply his father. He drops into 
those outstretched arms, and the next moment is safe on 
the paternal bosom. This is saving faith in a child ; and 
like it, is the faith that justifies the believer. To the 
wrath-environed soul, around which the eternal flames 
are already kindling, comes the gracious Redeemer, and 
he cries : " O, helpless immortal ! I have come to save 
you, to satisfy Divine justice, to cleanse you from sin, to 



THE CHILD- TEA CHER. 



209 



bear you safely to glory ; but from all your struggling 
self-righteousness you must cast yourself at once and 
entirely upon me for salvation. Drop from all other 
dependence into my outstretched arms." And with this 
direction, so simple that a child comprehends it, the 
poor soul goes about with its anxious questionings, 
about the metaphysics of belief and the philosophy of 
the atonement — analyzing the water of life, when it 
ought to be drinking it ; speculating about the make 
of the manna, when it .ought to be eating it ! 

Alas, poor foolish soul ! what can you know about the 
atonement more than this — that by it, in some way, God 
is reconciled to the sinner ? What need you more than 
God's simple assurance, that by it he is satisfied ? Oh, 
away from these metaphysical masters in Israel, to the 
feet of the child-preacher! Hark! he cries: "Ye per- 
ishing immortals, drop into your Saviour's loving and 
almighty arms, and be saved as I was saved by my 
weaker father !" Such is a child's saving faith — and 
such is the justifying belief that makes a Christian great 
in the kingdom of God. 

Secondly. Take Repentance, as the next Christian 
grace, for a like illustration. And here, as before, you 
all know what volumes have been written and uttered 
about the true godly sorrow which God demands of the 
sinner. "Repent, repent !" says the preacher; "repent, 
or you will all surely perish !" " But tell me, oh, tell 
me," responds the convicted soul, "what true repentance 
is! Practically and simply, what can I do? — what 
must I do ?" And in answer, we hear so much about 
various elements and exercises — apprehensions of the 
righteousness of the law that condemns, and approvals 



210 



TEE CEILD- TEA CEER. 



of the Divine justice that destroys — so much, in short, 
about the metaphysical simples that make up the spirit- 
ual composite of repentance, that the poor, trembling, 
self-condemned soul, instead of looking trustfully up- 
ward into the face of the loving and forgiving 
Father, is ever looking, in doubt and. despondency, 
inward, upon its subjective frames and feelings, to 
ascertain if haply it have enough of some mysterious 
emotions to justify it in taking God at his word, at 
once and rejoicingly — till, indeed, the very word "Re- 
pent " — so simple in its significance, that a child under- 
stands it — seems rather a Delphian enigma for our 
logic, than a Divine entreaty for our love. 

But come away to this child-teacher, O troubled 
spirit ! See that little girl ! She has disobeyed her 
mother, and expects to be punished, and feels that she 
deserves it. But it is not the chastisement that troubles 
her. She is thinking of that mother's sorrowful heart 
and tearful eye ! That kind, gentle, loving mother — 
she has grieved her, and her own heart breaks at the 
thought ! But now what does she ? Does she wait till 
she has made herself better — till she feels more deeply 
her wickedness — till by some earnest obedience she 
softens parental indignation ? Oh, no ! She comes just 
as she is, to her mother's feet ; she casts herself into those 
outstretched arms; she lays her aching head on that 
loving bosom, and looks up through raining tears into 
that beloved face, and cries : " Oh, mother, I have been 
very wicked ! — I am very sorry ! Dear mother, forgive 
me ; forgive me, and I will do so no more !" 

And just this is repentance, O troubled soul ! to come 
just as you are — waiting for nothing, inquiring about 



THE CHILD-TEACHER. 



211 



nothing — from your sins and your shortcomings to your 
heavenly Father ; looking up tearfully into his face, and 
crying : " Father, I have sinned — I am heartbroken ; 
punish me if it please thee, but forgive — oh, forgive !" 
This is repentance in the heart of a little child — and the 
repentance as well which makes the Christian a great 
one in the kingdom of God. 

Thirdly. Take the grace of Love for the child's illus- 
tration — a grace which, in its full development, is the 
well-rounded composite of all Christian excellencies — and 
let a little child exhibit its essence and exercise. 

1st. Take love to God, as the great law of life. And 
here as before, you all know how ambitiously men have 
sought out and classified the various evidences of such 
love in a believer's experience. And as we have come 
to our spiritual teachers for assistance on this great 
point of self-examination, we have heard so much about 
the distinctions between the selfish and the unselfish 
affections — so much about the spirituality of the Di- 
vine nature, and the necessity of sinking all thought 
of self-interest in an overpowering concern for the Divine 
glory — so much, in a word, about the elements of crys- 
tallization making up this crown-gem of a Christian 
character — that we have retired from the pulpit, or 
risen from the book, more than ever in doubt, whether 
or not we really did exercise any genuine love to our 
heavenly Father. 

But in regard of filial love, how teaches the young 
child ? See" that little boy, sitting wearied at eventide 
by the cottage lintel ! The day has been long and hot ; 
toys and flowers are scattered at his feet neglected and 
forgotten — his head droops — his eyes are closing ! 



212 TEE GEILD-TEA CEEE. 



But hark, now ! , Tliere is a quick, strong step on the 
gravel-walk, and a clear, cheery voice in the outer air ! 
And see the child now ! How his bowed head lifts 
itself! How his dull eyes flash again ! How he springs 
from his half-sleep ! He cries : " Father is coming ! — 
father is coming !" and with bounding step hastens to 
welcome him. And do you need further proof that the 
boy loves his father ? 

And a Christian should learn of this child what are 
love's evidences and experiences ! There are hours and 
occasions when our heavenly Father comes home to his 
children. God comes to the closet, the family altar, the 
social i^rayer-meeting, the sanctuary ; God speaks to us 
by his word ; God communes with us in his Spirit; and if 
these occasions of intercourse are precious to us, and like 
the child from its tasks and toys, we turn joyously from all 
life's work or play to the Divine. Presence, crying : " Oh, 
my Father, my heavenly Father comes to meet his chil- 
dren," then we do not need an angel's eye to analyze 
our emotions ; for this is the love of a little child for its 
father, and this is the love that makes us great ones in 
the kingdom of heaven. 

2d. Or take love in its other aspect — love to oar 
brethren — and let a little child illustrate it. Oh, how 
beautiful, how unselfish, how heavenly is the love of a 
little child for its brother, or sister, or playmate! It 
does not ask about the child's antecedents or surround- 
ings — whether he lives in a cottage or a palace — whether 
he respond with a liturgy or was sprinkled in baptism — 
ere he share with him his toys or help bear on his 
burden ! 

Thanks be unto God, in these days of strife, and 



THE CHILD- TEA CHER. 



213 



selfishness, and sectarianism ; turning God's one golden 
city, with its twelve gates of pearl, into twelve frowning 
fortresses, each with its iron portal —thanks unto God 
for the illustration put upon true brotherly love by the 
unselfish and joyous affection of a little child for his 
fellows ! And may God teach us all the sweet lesson, 
that this unselfish love is the true Christian affection ; 
that a brotherly love that is bounded by a particular 
creed or communion; that does not love the image of 
Christ always and everywhere, is a love that, burn 
highly as it may, burns only as a beacon — it will never en- 
dure the tremendous trial of a judgment; for it lacks the 
grand element of a child's love for his fellows, and such is 
the only love that makes great in the kingdom of heaven ! 

Fourthly. Take filial Trust or Confidence, for a 
child's illustration — that sweet submission to the Divine 
will, and calm reliance on Divine love, which make life a 
land of Beulah, and seem almost the fullness of sanctifi- 
cation. 

And on this point most of all does a little child seem 
eloquent. Oh, happy, happy heart of gentle, trustful 
childhood! With a flower, or a bright shell, or the 
song of a wild bird in the sunshine, and a father's hand 
to feed, and a mother's eye to watch, it asks no more to 
make earth a paradise ! 

And such surely should be a Christian's trust in his 
heavenly Father. Oh, ye faithless and disquieted chil- 
dren of God ! full of fears and forebodings about the 
things of the morrow, when the whole future is ordered 
for you in God's covenant love ; always striving to cross 
rivers before you come to them, and to climb the dark 
mountains that seem to rise in your path before you reach 



214 THE CHILD-TEACHER. 



them, when, in all likelihood, you will find in your way 
neither river nor mountain ; forgetting that God's dis- 
pensation of grace and love is : that as your day, so shall 
your strength be. Oh, ye trustless children of God, let a 
little child preach to you ! " What did you do ?" said a 
mother to her young boy, who had wandered away from 
her Western home and spent a whole night in the wilder- 
ness — " What did you do, my child, when the twilight 
deepened, and the woods grew dark with the coming 
night ?" " Oh," said the child, "I gathered some berries 
and nuts, and drank of a little brook, and then found a 
bank where the grass was soft and green, and then I said 
my prayer that God would take care of you and little 
sister, and then I went to sleep." Such is the trustful 
faith of childhood — and such the trust that makes great 
in the kingdom of heaven. 

Now, these are only particulars of a great general prin- 
ciple. Had we limits, we might use the same illustration 
in regard of all the graces which make up the character 
of one who is pre-eminent in the kingdom of heaven ! 
Indeed, we might go much further, and show how the 
same principle applies as well to the purely intellectual, 
as to the emotional. We think that the opinions and 
judgments little children entertain of theological truths 
are better than their teachers. 

I go to one of these Rabbis of theology and ask : " What 
is God?" and am answered, "God is the Great First 
Cause of things — an Eternal and Infinite Spirit." But 
alas, for me, I can not compass it — that mysterious word 
" spirit*!" I marvel not that the disciples on the Sea of 
Tiberias trembled in the wild night when a phantom-form 
walked the waters, and "they thought it was a spirit." 



THE CHILD-TEACHER. 215 



And when I look forth upon the immensity of the uni- 
verse, and behold, as it were, the outline of an infinite 
and absolute Spirit, and am told that it is God, I startle 
and recoil, as the mighty seas roar around me, as from 
some awful phantom of a dream ! 

Then I turn from the school of the Rabbi, that I may 
find a little child happy and trustful in its heavenly in- 
stincts, and I say : " My child, tell me, what is God ?" 
And he answers : " God is my heavenly Father !" Ah, 
that is it ! I know it all now ! God is my heavenly 
Father ! 

I go to the theologian and say: "Sir, what is heaven?" 
And he discourses learnedly about " spheres," and " elim- 
inations," and " developments," and " adaptations," — 
about physical, and intellectual, and moral theories of 
the higher life — until the heaven to which I so fondly 
looked as some enrapturing reality, seems to me, in its 
etherial refinements and unexperienced modes of life, 
such a region of cold and unsubstantial spirituality, that 
I recoil from those very gates of pearl which open only 
to such shadowy though sublime phantasms. 

And again I turn to my child-teacher, and ask : " What 
is heaven ?" And the child answers : " Heaven is my 
Father's house of many mansions ! Heaven is my home ! 
Mother died and went to heaven, and little sister died 
and went to heaven ; and when I die I shall go to heav- 
en, and be at home again, with mother and sister, and 
Jesus, and God !" 

Such are a child's answers. God is my Father! 
Heaven is my eternal home ! And I know it all now !' 
The simple instinct of childhood has taught me what no 
ambitious thought could have reached. 



216 TEE CE1LD-TEA CEER. 



And so in all things and always, whether in its thoughts 
or its emotions, the happy, joyous, trustful, believing in- 
tellect of a little child is, in this fallen world, the most 
beautiful and fitting type of the spiritual life that peo- 
ples immortality. And marvelous alike in its wisdom 
and its love, was the act of the great Master when the 
disciples questioned him about true Christian greatness. 
He might have answered them differently. As in their 
ambition, they thought about the princes and nobles in 
Christ's earthly kingdom, and longed for temporal scep- 
tres, and diadems, and thrones, and came selfishly ques- 
tioning him about the qualities and exploits entitling to 
distinctions in the heavenly kingdom, he might have 
summoned again, as just before on the Mount of Trans- 
figuration, Moses and Elias, from the celestial spheres. 
And as, lustrous with white robe and diadem, those 
crowned creatures of eternity floated above them in a 
sea of glory, he might have pointed to the gorgeous 
apparition, and cried, with overwhelming impressiveness : 
Behold ! Such are the great ones in the kingdom of 
heaven. But with a deeper manifestation of wisdom and 
love, he took a little child and set him in the midst of 
them; and as they gazed upon that childish humility, 
and gentleness, and faith, he said: "Except ye be con- 
verted and become as little children, ye can not see the 
kingdom of God/" 

And so, doubtless, would he do again were he to 
descend and walk in the midst of the churches ; and, ah 
me ! how we should all be startled, more than at the ad- 
vent of a preaching angel, as, led by the Saviour's hand, 
that little child came, in humble, simple, loving faith, into 
our Sabbath assemblies! We should all be terrified:-- 



THE CHILD-TEACHER. 217 



that ambitious theologian, searching with unholy eye the 
deep mysteries of God's hidden counsels, determined to 
believe nothing whose philosophy is beyond him — that 
bigot sectary quarreling with Christians of every other 
name about forms and dogmas, as if to contend earnestly 
for the faith were to pick a quarrel with Christ's friends 
just for the sake of a battle — that self-seeking Diotraphes 
ever struggling for pre-eminence, as if the race for glory 
were an envious strife for Olympian laurels — that proud 
Pharisee making long prayers for a pretense, while devour- 
ing widows' houses ; wearing broad phylacteries in the 
chief seats in the synagogues, as if God could not but be 
honored by such aristocracy of discipleship — that gloomy 
and sorrowful believer, walking tearfully to glory, as if 
he were completing Christ's sacrifice in his own self- 
righteous agonies ; as if it were a sad thing to have 
heaven for a home and God for a father — how, in short, 
we should all be startled and appalled, as, lifting that 
fair child before us, in all its humility, and gentleness, 
and faith, the glorious Master should utter again, with 
his earnest voice, the text's solemn truth: " Except ye be 
converted and become as little children, ye can not see the 
hingdom of GocV 

Let us take to our hearts and our homes the solemn les- 
son: 1st. Let God's professing children consider it care- 
fully. Alas for the solemn question, "Lord, are there 
few that be saved?" " When the Son of Man cometh, 
will he find faith on earth V as if the glory of the sec- 
ond advent would fall on a world and a Church all grace- 
less and abandoned, whence faith had been swept away 
in the flood-tides of Pharisaism ! 

For where, tell me, where are the little children of God 
10 



218 



TEE CHILD- TEA CHER. 



in the churches ? We have great men and women 
enough, beyond question — disciples who can speculate 
about mysterious doctrines, as if God's awful oracles 
were curious enigmas for the exercise of our logic — who 
vapor in the championship of sect or school, as if " the 
good fight of faith" were an everlasting battle "with 
wild beasts at Ephesus" — who can flash and roar for 
Christ in public places and on great occasions, as if the 
savor of Christian life were not the soft, sweet light, but 
the terrible lightning. Surely, we have great men enough 
in the Church, until, one would think, that every mother of 
Israel had wedded a Manoah and brought forth a Samson ! 
But the children, the little children, humble, trustful, 
docile, obedient, full of faith and good works, forgetful 
of self in their toil for man's good and God's glory. Oh ! 
I see not the little children in the kingdom of heaven ! 

God bring the great truth home to us : " We must be 
converted and become as little children.''' 1 A religion that 
makes a man proud, and self-righteous, and pretentious, 
and sectarian, is not Christ's religion. A piety that does 
not make him humble, affectionate, loving, happy, is a 
false principle altogether. For Christ himself being the 
teacher, a little child is the pattern of true greatness in 
the kingdom of heaven. 

2d. Meanwhile let the impenitent as well receive the 
great lesson. You see here what it is to become a true 
Christian. Alas, what strange notions the world forms 
of the effect upon life of practical religion ! But, as set 
forth in the Saviour's illustration, what is it to be a 
Christian ? Is it to give up all that is bright and joyous 
in the present world, and become melancholy and martyr- 
like, and walk to the grave with wrinkled brow and 



THE CHILD-TEACHER. 219 



wounded spirit ? Is this practical piety ? Ah, no ! As 
set forth by our Saviour, to be a Christian is not to be a 
sorrowful specimen of monstrous manhood, but simply 
and only to become a little child! To turn away from 
the cares and controversies of the grown-up world, and 
to become a fair, young, laughing child again, with a 
pure, trustful, loving, happy heart. It is to become the 
subject of the miracle for which the genius of the elder 
world yearned in its wrapt dreams — to be bathed in the 
mystic fountains of immortal youth ! To be made young 
again ! To be born again ! To become little children 
again ! To go back, as it were, from the stern battle and 
bivouac of manhood to the peacefulness and gladness of 
life's bright morning — to the serene iDastoral holiday of 
the child, with the unclouded brow and the happy heart ! 

Yes, and more : to be God's little child again ! and so 
to have the infinite Jehovah for a father, and heaven for 
a home, and all bright spirits the sisters of the house- 
hold ! To be God's little child, and so, in filial love and 
trust, to sit at his mighty feet, and look up into his 
glorious face, and though the coals burn and the light- 
nings play, and the very pillars of the universe rock as 
with an earthquake, still to cry, in joyous trust : " My 
Father, my Father !" To take hold of the almighty hand 
that moves the constellations, walking joyously the ap- 
pointed path, knowing that through the cloud, and the 
storm, and the starless midnight a loving Father is lead- 
ing us to a blessed home in heaven. 

This is it, simply and only, to be a Christian on earth, 
and what it shall be to be a Christian in heaven, no 
mortal can tell. Oh, that mysterious and paradoxical 
mingling of imagery in the revelation of eternity ! To 



220 THE CHILD-TEACHER. 

be a little child, and yet a crowned immortal — a king 
and a priest unto God for ever and ever. Heaven, God's 
mighty throne — God's glorious mansion — yet my familiar 
home ! God, the infinite and everlasting Jehovah, yet 
my heavenly Father ! Ah, we know not what it means ! 
Yet, be the meaning w*hat it may, this is what you are 
called to in this Gospel invitation. 

We stand here to-day, not urging you to give up any 
good thing for Christ, nor to take up any load or burden 
for Christ. But as unto prodigals in a far county, who 
have wandered from their father's house, and wasted 
their substance, and are sad-hearted and squalid, and 
overborne in vile labor, our cry is ever and only : " Oh, 
your home is open, and your Father with welcome and 
white robes await you. Poor prodigal children — come 
home ! come home !" And what a home it is, and what 
a blessed home-going ! Joyous is it ever to turn from 
the cold and wearying world to the loving household. 
The child, lost in the woods and found at last, and borne 
by strong arms from the roaring forest and the wild 
night to the mother's gentle arms, and the father's board 
and hearth, was unutterably blessed. But happier, far 
happier, the heavenward return of the redeemed spirit. 
In the golden evening of time — from all the storms and 
darkness of this troublous world — along yonder high- 
ways of sapphires, through all the glowing lustres of the 
firmament, to the uncreated glories and enrapturing wel- 
comes of heaven — going home! going home! 



COMMUNION. 



"My beloved has gone dovm info his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed 
in the garden, and to gather lilies. lam my beloved's, -and my beloved 
is mine." — Solomon's Song, vi. 2, 3. 

The exquisite pastoral from which our text is taken 
is peculiarly fitted for sacramental meditation — be- 
cause its design is to set forth the mutual love of 
Christ and his disciples ; and because his disciples in ap- 
proaching the' sacrament should be in frames of mind 
fitted to appreciate its exquisite imagery. It is a 
book which no profane hand should ever be permitted 
to open, and which no profane hand should be per- 
mitted to close. To the carnal heart it may afford 
ground of cavil. To a heart knowing experimentally 
Christ's loveliness and the believer's love, it is full of 
precious truth and consolation. We may say of it, as 
has been said of " Pilgrim's Progress," that it is like " a 
painting meant to be exhibited by fire-light. The com- 
mon reader, seeing it only by day, regards it only as a 
sensuous picture. While to the loving child of God it is 
a glorious transparency, and the light which shines 
through, giving to its incidents such life, to its colors 
such depth, to its whole scenery such surpassing beauty, 
is light from eternity — the meaning of heaven." 



222 



C01L1LUNI0N. 



Opening the book in frames which befit the sacrament 
our text needs no exposition. It exhibits the mutual 
love of Christ and his people. The pleasure Christ has 
in communing with the believer, and the believer's 
pleasure in communing with Christ. 

The picture is of an Oriental garden, wherein walk 
two loving spirits, joyously conversing, while they par- 
take of its delicious fruits ; and it sets forth, as appli- 
cable to the sacramental communion, two things : — 

L Christian Duty. 

II. Christian Privilege — £. e. What at this sacrament 
Christ expects of his people. And what at this sacra- 
ment his people may expect of Christ. 

We have here first — Christian duty. Regarding 
Christ as the subject, it represents him as greatly 
rejoicing in the graces of his people. The Church 
is here represented as Christ's garden into which 
he then descends to delight himself with the gra- 
cious fruits of the believer's spiritual life. And our 
lesson of duty is that at the sacrament we should 
experience and exhibit such spiritual affections as 
seem unto Christ precious — fruits to be eaten — lilies 
to be gathered ! Consider these graces : — 1. Faith 
— That saving grace whereby we receive and rest on 
him alone for salvation. This is the foundation of 
all religious life. In its implantation a purely divine 
work — in its development the efflorescence and fruitage 
of an earnest Christian life ; — and so depending for its 
vigor on our own diligence in well doing. Now this 
grace Christ delights in, for it greatly honors and glori- 
fies him. In its ascription of salvation to him alone it 
virtually places the mediatorial crown upon his head. 



COMMUNION. 



223 



And so he is everywhere represented as greatly rejoicing 
in the strong faith of his disciples. 

Behold him at Nazareth. Having begun his miracu- 
lous work elsewhere, we imagine him returning to the 
village wherein he had so long dwelt, earnestly desiring 
to heal the diseases and**relieve the distresses of his own 
familiar friends. And yet we find him hindered in that 
work of mercy, offended, amazed, grieved, — not able to 
do miracles there because of their unbelief! 

See him at Bethany ! Having returned in love to the 
bereaved sisters, about to give back the beloved brother 
to their home and heart, — yet, in that very hour of 
seeming rapture, pausing, troubled, groaning in spirit, 
weeping because of their unbelief. See him after his own 
resurrection, on the very eve of his ascension to glory, 
in the act of sending forth his disciples to evangelize all 
nations, — yet pausing sadly, reproachfully, to upbraid 
them for their unbelief. And so always.* Oh, how he 
delighted in the strong faith of his disciples ! How he 
ever grieved at their unbelief! For unbelief seemed to 
him the foundation of other sins, and so the greatest of 
all sins. And so in regard of ourselves. He wants us 
to trust in him fully for all things — in his love to devise, 
in his power to perform. Our distrust dishonors and 
grieves him, just as a child's distrust grieves and dis- 
honors a parent. We may be in circumstances of distress, 
of temptation, of deep and sore trial; but what, then? 
Oh, let us cast our whole burden on Christ ! He delights 
to bear it; he is honored in bearing it. Faith — strong, 
unfaltering, triumphant faith — is that glorious fruit of the 
Spirit with which he is so well pleased. He delights in 
it — especially when his people sit at his table. Then he 



224 



COMMUNION. 



comes into his garden to rejoice in its gracious growth ; 
he searches the beds of spices for the bright flower of 
faith; he stands under the growing trees, looking for 
the ripe fruit of faith : and, alas, if he find only a poor 
withered flower, or unripened fruit, when he should 
find the banks all a-bloom, and the branches all bend- 
ing for the refreshment of his soul ! Away with all un- 
belief from Christ's table to-day ! O troubled soul ! 
trust on your Saviour, exult in your Saviour ! Let faith 
as a flower fill all the air of the garden ; let faith as a 
fruit of the Spirit cover all the grace-tree, for "Behold 
my Beloved hath come to his beds of spices to feed in his 
garden and to gather lilies." 

And as of this foundation-grace, so of all graces. 
Consider, 2d. Love, — which is the soul's crowning grace, 
or, a grand composite of all graces. For, in strict speech, 
they are all modifications of love — penitence is love 
srievino: — faith is love resting — obedience is love work- 
ing — hope is love waiting. So that love toward man 
and toward God is at once the law fulfilled, and holi- 
ness perfected. 

And in this Christ delights. He looks here for strong 
brotherly love. This is a communion of saints — the 
return of brothers and sisters, from the ruder world with- 
out, to the home-board and banquet. And, alas, if he 
find animosity, or alienation, among those sitting at his 
side — resting on his bosom ! He looks for love toward 
himself. It is marvelous that he should desire it. For 
behold all the heavenly orders — thrones and dominions 
and principalities and powers — are bowed in adoration 
before the Lamb that was slain ! And why should he 
desire our poor offerings of affection? But he does 



COM 31 UNION. 



225 



desire them. This love, as embracing all other graces, 
is the essence of all holiness — that very condition of sal- 
vation which sets the believing soul as a priceless gem in 
the Saviour's crown. Without love, Christ's travailing 
soul could not be satisfied. And he comes looking for it 
to-day ; and here he should find it. Love, penitential 
love, trusting love, consecrating love, exulting love, 
should be the ruling emotion as we sit here with the 
Master. Surely he deserves it ! The mighty Shepherd 
who, rushing to my rescue, tore my bleeding soul from 
the ravening monster's fang — the Omnipotent Champion 
who stormed the stronghold of death, and with bleeding 
hand opened the prison-door, loosed the iron fetter, and 
on his bleeding bosom bore me forth to the living world 
to be his disciple here, and his joint heir forever of 
heaven's crown and kingdom — surely he deserves our 
love ! And he delights in it. As the heart of a father is 
grieved at the want of love in a child, so Christ grieves 
over our lifeiess affections. And now, as represented in 
the text, he has come into his garden to refresh himself 
with this grace. He bends down over the beds of spices 
to gather love's blossoms — he looks up into the trees of 
the garden to gather the fruits of love — and alas ! alas ! 
if he finds only the fruits unripened and the flowers 
dead ! 

Such is the text's simple figure. The lesson of duty is, 
that in approaching the communion we should not only 
desire refreshment ourselves, but afford it to our Re- 
deemer ! Here to cast at his feet the flower and fruit of 
grace, as we shall cast at his feet in heaven our crowns 
of glory ! The Church is Christ's garden — -a field which 
he hath redeemed from wilderness, and inclosed and 

10* 



226 



COMMUNION'. 



planted with germs of a heavenly growth ; whose spirit- 
ual fruits are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, 
goodness, faith. And now in the time of fruit — when the 
whole garden should be as paradise, its banks soft and 
green, its airs fragrant with precious odors, its flowers in 
their full splendor, its trees and vines bending with richest 
fruit — now the adored one descends to delight himself 
with our graces, and woe, woe ! if he find the air without 
fragrance, and the flower-beds without beauty, and the 
trees without fruit. Oh, touching picture ! God impress 
it on our hearts that we may come aright to thy table. 
"JBehold the beloved hath gone down into his garden to 
the beds of spices, to feed in the garden and to gather 
lilies" 

This is the text's first thought. But it has another 
one. It represents not only the pleasure Christ takes 
in his people, but the pleasure they take in Christ. " I 
am my beloved 's, and my beloved is mine" We have 
here secondly — The Christianas privilege.. Regarding 
the believer as the subject, it represents his soul as 
greatly rejoicing in the sacrament, gathering in Christ's 
garden the heavenly fruit. These fruits are the gra- 
cious gifts imparted by the Saviour. Consider a few 
of them. Take them as they are presented in Christ's 
discourse in that guest-chamber. 1st. Peace. — Peace ! 
What a sweet word it is ! Its sound is like the cadence 
of an angel's voice from heaven. " Peace I leave you, 
my peace I give unto you.'''' Oh, enrapturing gift ! 
And as a grace springing from reconciliation to God, 
and maintained by faith in Christ, felt in its fullest 
power at this precious sacrament. "Peace! Peace, not 
as the world giveth." Truly hath God said, "There is 



COMMUNION. 



227 



no peace for the wicked." "They are like the troubled 
sea." Sometimes for a moment tranquil ; but alas, how 
treacherous ! The more terrible in its tranquillity, as 
the harbinger of the tempest, that will open a thousand 
yawning gulfs around the poor laboring, staggering 
bark ! Not such the Christian's peace. " That shall 
be as a river." The bright, full, joyous, ever widening, 
deepening stream, that under sheltering banks rolls its 
silver tide by his cottage-door ! Peace ! Heavenly 
peace ! What a blessed thought ! Quiet, tranquillity, 
spiritual, and immortal rest ! And for this we come to 
Christ in the sacrament. Elsewhere even the believer's 
soul may be troubled, like the same bride in the con- 
text, forlorn in life's broad ways, seeking the Beloved. 
Perplexed, tempted, tribulated, overweighted in the 
race, overmatched in the battle. But not here. Be- 
hold a garden walled up to heaven ! And through its 
open portal the soul passes, leaning on the beloved, to 
bathe heart and spirit in the everlasting fullness of 
God's glorious peace ! O child of God ! away with 
all doubt, all fear, all despondency ! What should 
trouble you now? Here is assurance of salvation! 
Look on these emblems ! Here is a divine work begun, 
and God leaves no work unfinished. Here is a divine 
price paid down, and God's purchase is always with 
assured title. Look at these emblems ! Why, if here 
lay — brought by angels out of heaven — the white robe, 
the sceptre, the diadem, that are reserved for you in 
glory; and you could approach and look upon them, 
and lift them up, — all this were less, as assurance of 
your heavenly Father's love, than these precious me- 
morials. Cast away, then, all anxious care as you 



228 



COMMUNION'. 



walk with your loving Redeemer through these bowers 
of heavenly peace ! 

But more than this, Christ in this sacrament promises, 
2dly. Jot. — "These things have I spoken unto you, that 
my joy might remain with you, and that your joy might 
be full" And what glorious, joy-imparting words they 
were ! About the love of the Father, the grace of the 
Comforter, the place prepared in the many mansions, 
the coming again to take the redeemed one home. ~No 
marvel that they gave joy, a joy that sent them out 
even into the wild night and Gethsemane and Calvary, 
filling all the cold air with the glad song of the Pass- 
over ! And what wonderful joy it was. My Joy! 
Christ's own joy. The same sacred bliss that thrills the 
heart of the ascended Saviour as he rests this hour on the 
bosom of Infinite Love ! As if one of those Divine pulses 
were beating rapturously in the believer's life and soul ! 
And this is better than peace ; for that is but a pas- 
sive rest, this is a reigning rapture ! We enter God's 
garden to-day for more than shelter; we look for 
more than this wall of adamant that resists the tem- 
pest. We seek here the rarest flowers and the* richest 
fruits of a king's garden of spices ! From the cold, 
troublous, torturing- world we turn to 'this gracious 
inclosure. We pass the portal — and behold what a 
new and fairer world is above and around us ! What 
banks of living green ! What bright clear waters ! 
How sweet the air with sunbeams and song of birds ! 
What resplendent blossoms ! 'What glorious fruits ! 
Oh, what adorable and enrapturing truths flame 
out as in letters of light from these sacred emblems ! 
Justification — adoption — sanctification — immutability— 



COMMUNION. 



229 



eternal life ! Christ, my Divine Shepherd ! God, 
my heavenly Father ! Here, a Providence work- 
ing omnipotently all things together for my good. 
Yonder a far more exceeding and eternal weight of 
glory ! And standing here what shall trouble me ! O 
garden of God ! pour round us all thy treasures ! O 
child of God ! do not tell me of troubles. Have God's 
providences seemed disquieting ? Hath God disappoint- 
ed your hopes ; taken away your possessions ? But 
hearken to the Saviour's words, " Every branch that 
beareth fruit he purgeth it that it may bring forth more 
fruit.'''' That is what trial is — the husbandman's prim- 
ing-knife used iu love of his growing things. 

Have you lost beloved ones? O mother of dead 
children! are faith's wings heavy amid the cypresses? 
Hark to the Bride's sweet words, " My beloved hath gone 
down into his garden to gather lilies.'''' Oh, that is what 
death is ! The gathering, by the Divine hand, flowers 
from the earthly garden, to pour forth their fragrance and 
beauty in the heavenly palace ! Even our trials seem 
blessed as we sit at Christ's table ! And for the rest it 
is all rapture ! What heart can be troubled, walking 
side by side with Immanuel ! Who can forbear the 
triumph, or repress the rapture ! Here ! shut in from 
life's storms, how like a very paradise seems the Chris- 
tian Church. Oh, these glorious attributes of God, how 
like adamantine bulwarks they rise between us .and 
life's storms ! Oh, this peace of God ! how it bathes 
my panting heart as in the stormless atmosphere of 
heaven ! Oh, this faith in Christ f how it illumes all 
these skies as with sparklings of the things hoped for, 
the palaces and pinnacles of the city of God ! Oh, this 



230 



COMMUNION. 



love of the Father! how it fills the whole garden as 
with the odor of deathless flowers and the music of 
singing creatures from eternity ! Oh, this joy in the 
Holy Ghost ! how it bends to my thirsty lip the very 
clusters of the fruit from the living trees of heaven ! 
O troubled heart ! enter into thy rest, exult in thy rap- 
ture ! O garden of God ! refresh us with thy living 
waters, breathe round us thy sweet odors, strengthen 
us with thy blessed fruits. O thou Incarnate One ! 
our King, our Shepherd, our Saviour, who hast set us 
as a seal upon thy right arm and upon thy heart, 
make haste, like a hart upon the mountain of spices, 
that we may walk in thy garden and feast in thy ban- 
queting-house, thy heavenly voice filling all the soul, 
and thy banner over us Love — Love ! 



THE MORTAL IMMORTALIZED. 



" This mortal miist put on immortality." — I. Corinthians, xv. 53. 

On other occasions we have considered the great apos- 
tolic argument of the context. At present, we propose 
no more than by a single implied truth of the text, to 
correct some false impressions of man's condition after 
death. Among the few who take thought at all for im- 
mortality, there are two distinct and antagonistic schools, 
which we may term characteristically the Sensuous and 
the Spiritual. 

The one, on the presumption that death affects not 
personal identity, nor, indeed, any of the true elements 
of character, and that immortal scenes and conditions 
must be adjusted to that character, picture to themselves 
a heaven of physical blessedness, differing from earth 
only in the absence of all that can annoy, and the full- 
ness and fruition of all that can enrapture. To them, 
heaven is only a glorified earth — immortality only the 
state of the well-developed mortal ! 

While the other class, magnifying above what is 
written, the effects of death and the Resurrection, regard 
heaven as a state utterly unlike all that the mortal has 
seen and experienced — where the soul, in conditions alto- 
gether etherealized, shall exist in the transcendental 



232 TEE MORTAL IMMORTALIZED. 



majesty of a risen spirit, rather than as a redeemed and 
yet veritable man in Christ Jesus. 

Now of both these classes of expectants of immortal- 
ity are the notions alike un philosophic and unscripturab 
Heaven and its higher life are more than this earthly, 
purified and perfected, and yet the redeemed creatures 
that are to people heaven will be in all constitutional 
faculties as truly men as these earthly races. And all 
this our text plainly teaches. 

" This mortal must put on immortality" 

This language implies, not transubstantiation, but 
transfiguration — a change not of an essence but only of 
aspects. It is the self-same nature we have here — these 
very attributes and energies which constitute our human- 
ity — that is to emerge un effected from the dark flood, 
and wear on the far shore the splendors of immortality. 

The text gives us twofold data for solving the prob- 
lem of the after state. It predicts the man's sameness 
and yet the while the man's transfiguration. It speaks 
of the " mortaV that shall not be injured by death, and 
yet of the " immortality'''' that shall be put on it as a 
glorious garment. 

Treating these two thoughts in their order, we are 
concerned : — First, With the affirmed identity of the 
immortal creature with the mortal. 

Though at death we are unquestionably to lose what- 
ever can be shown to belong only to this rudimental life 
— as the chrysalis drops the exuvise in developing the 
wings — yet all faculties and functions essentialy human 
are to be ours forever. Even in regard of the body is this 
strictly the truth. Whatever may be the bliss of the 
state into which the redeemed soul passes at its separa- 



THE MORTAL • IMMORTALIZED. 233 



tion from the flesh — yet reason and revelation alike 
declare it to be unnatural, and so imperfect. Speculate as 
we will, death, self-considered, can not be made to appear 
a benefit. It is not a step in a progress — it is an inter- 
ruption — a judicial infliction — God's curse upcn sin — and, 
but for the sin, a cruelty. Indeed, how the soul can act 
in the future world, when divested of this body, we can 
not understand. But even if, as Paul seems to intimate, 
it is immediately furnished with a suitable abode or 
organism — not altogether "unclothed, but clothed upon" 
still we know that in the intermediate state between 
death and the Resurrection, it enjoys but part of " the 
eternal weight of glory" which shall rest upon the perfect 
man in the Resurrection body. And therefore we do not 
marvel that from the dust of the sepulchre is, at last, as 
a trophy of the mediatorship, to be reconstructed a new 
body like Christ's, to ascend with the triumphing Imman- 
uel, and go forth as part of the redeemed man along the 
bright paths of immortality. 

But if this identity seem necessarily true in regard of 
the body, how more manifestly true is it in regard to the 
mind. I mean the attributes and activities of our 
purely intellectual nature. Even as a philosophic in- 
quiry there appears no reason why death should work 
any change in our rational nature. Accepting as a 
simple matter of faith, the truth of the soul's immortality, 
we should, a priori, expect that, as the last enemy rocked 
its dwelling into dust, it would emerge from the ruins to 
enter the paths of the higher life with all its peculiar habits 
of thought, and at precisely its attained point of progress 
— no more truly a . man amid these earthly scenes, than 
amid the glorious scholarship and fellowshijD of eternity. 



234 THE MORTAL IMMORTALIZED. 



And if you accept the popular distinction between the 
rational and emotional in our nature, still the text's 
thought must be true of it. There is surely no stranger 
mistake than that which regards these strong natural 
affections as the specialties of the present life — moral 
exuvise cast off when the spirit wings its way to 
eternity. 

What we are wont to term " the heart " — that system 
of sympathies and affections — whereby in all narrower 
or broader senses, " God setteth the solitary in families" 
■ — is among the most indestructible elements of our 
being. And it is widely to mistake the truth and 
greatly to degrade our conceptions of immortality to 
speak of the risen spirit, as soaring out of the sphere of 
these earthly and mortal loves in its ascent to the fellow- 
ship with God and his angels. Pure intellect, un- 
softened by affection, is simply monstrous. Entering 
heaven with our logic intensified and our love gone, 
our sympathies would be fiendish. Affection is, even 
metaphysically considered, man's noblest attribute. 
And the more you equip him for the higher spheres of 
pure intellect, the more fearful and phantom-like you 
make him, if his ascent is to be out of the power and 
memory of these beautiful affections of the earthly home 
and heart. 

In this respect emphatically the mortal falls not away 
as the dead shroud of the chrysalis — but " the mortal 
does put on immortality." Said our Saviour (when 
asserting his right to the Divine titles, " the Resurrection 
and the Life," standing by the beloved dead with the 
sisters of Bethany), "Pie ^-hall rise again." — But how? 
Changed, transfigured, glorified in an elevation above 



TEE MORTAL IMMORTALIZED. 235 



all earthly ties and mortal affections ? No ! Blessed be 
God, No. " Your Bkothee shall rise again" Notwith- 
standing all the mysterious processes of death and the 
Resurrection, in the fullness of his beautiful and earnest 
love, he shall rise again truly "your brother" still. And 
soisitever! Death annihilates no pure affection wherein 
a Christian heart rejoices. The waves of the dark river 
obliterate no dear name from the memory. " The water 
of life " is no Lethe of forgetfulness. The very names 
God's children bear on earth are written in the Lamb's 
Book of Life, and shall be theirs as well in "the many 
mansions " forever. And all the influences of that 
higher life, strengthening the soul for a fellowship with 
the crowned creatures of eternity, shall only deepen 
within its chambers of imagery these earthly and mortal 
pictures of the heart. 

This, then, in short, in its application to the whole com- 
plex human nature", is the text's first truth — Death does 
not destroy nor mutilate the mortal. The creature, 
emerging from the death-ruin, and at last perfected in the 
Resurrection, will enter heaven, no new creation, no 
stranger-spirit— but the self-same being with whom 
on earth and in time we took sweet counsel. Man with 
a human body ; man with a human intellect ; man with 
a human heart. 

But the text has another lesson, and if its first 
truth contradict the spiritual notion which regards 
the risen man as nqt merely a new creature, but posi- 
tively another creature, its second truth as plainly con- 
tradicts that sensuous notion which regards the heavenly 
state as no more than the earthly state perfected and 
glorified. 



236 THE MORTAL IMMORTALIZED. 



This mortal must not merely become perfect after its 
kind, but, positively, " this mortal must put on immor- 
tality:' 

And, if these words do beyond question teach the en- 
tire identity of the nature, they do as surely set forth 
the marvelous and all-glorious transfiguration of that 
nature. 

The word "immortality," in the original as in the trans- 
lation, is a simple negative. Though the inspired penman 
had in his celestial rapture gazed upon the realities of 
the eternal world — yet, he had no power to describe 
them. He says they were " unspeakable.''' 1 They were 
things for which in this earthly life human thought can 
have no image — human language no name. The risen 
man, though essentially the same, yet is to be 
marvelously strengthened in all the old capacities and 
faculties, and miraculously gifted with new. Of such 
things we can here form no conception. 

We have in the mortal five bodily senses. We know 
that God might have given us a hundred. But of a new 
sense Ave can have no idea ; as a man born blind can not 
even conceive of the power of vision. And so is it 
of the new faculties which come with immortality. 
And while we remain mortal, inspiration can only de- 
scribe the future in negatives. 

Immortality — Oh, the glorious word ! The same, yet 
how changed ! The body. It shall be the same body 
with the eye to see, and the tongue to speak, but as the 
sere and shapeless seed we cast into the earth is trans- 
figured into the queenly flower, so great shall the 
change be. With what new senses and new organs it 
may be furnished God hath not told us. *In this very 



THE MORTAL IMMORTALIZED. 237 



chapter Paul seems struggling under the burden of the 
magnificent description : — " It is sown in corruption — it 
is raised in incorruption" And what notion can we 
form of incorruptible matter, — of an organism positively 
immaculate ; no more liable to disease or decay — immu- 
table, as if pervaded with the Divine Essence. 

" It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory.'''' The 
body which we here were taught to regard as a house of 
leprosy, and all its senses instruments of temptation, to be 
reconstructed into a palace of the higher life — positively 
fashioned like Christ's glorious body ! " It is sown in 
loeakness it is raised in power." This poor, imperfect 
instrument of the intellect, requiring constant care lest it 
be injured by the using, itself changed into a mighty and 
imperishable engine wherewith to work out unwearied 
the grand ministries of eternity ! Yea — and as of Paul, 
gave in a single word the explanation of the whole mar- 
vel — he adds — " It is sown a natural body, it is raised a 
spiritual body.'''' Its material elements so etherealized 
and refined that it passes out of mere physical condi- 
tions — no longer controlled by material inertia and im- 
penetrability and attraction, but (like Christ's raised 
body, which could pass closed doors and float up to the 
firmament) itself the very equipment of the soul when it 
would explore the mysteries of creation and traverse im- 
mensity in adoring contemplation. Thus marvelous the 
transfiguration even of our physical nature. This poor 
mortal body clothed upon with immortality ! 

And, when we ascend to the higher human functions, 
» how feeble seem all present conceptions of the reality. 
If the dwelling-place be thus glorified, what a transfig- 
uration must await the spirit-inhabitant. This intellect 



238 THE MORTAL IMMORTALIZED. 



of man, how it sometimes tovv T ers and triumphs even as 
mortal. What discoveries it hath made ! What obsta- 
cles it hath overcome ! Along what great paths it has 
traveled ! What wonderful works it hath done ! Mil- 
ton's song ! Why, it seemed almost an angelic harp he 
swept ! Newton's march through the universe — it did 
seem like the old prophet's in a chariot of fire. Yet all 
this was the mortal. The doings of the cradled child 
with its playthings. And who shall tell us, then, of the 
child's manhood — of that coming transfiguration when 
* " the mortal mind shall put on immortality ;" of the great 
thoughts we shall think, and the raptures we shall feel, 
and wondrous works we shall perform, when, with facul- 
ties for knowledge and capacities for happiness immensely 
surpassing any thing of which we can now conceive, we 
shall ascend into that brighter and eternal life ? Verily, 
it is a transcendent and enrapturing thought — that this 
mortal mind shall put on immortality. 

But beyond it, and even more precious and glorious, is 
the truth in its application to our emotional nature. For 
herein, after all, consists man's true grandeur. And unto 
his heart rather 'than to his head shall be accorded the 
loftiest prizes of eternity ! And to think of the human 
heart (while unchanged in all its gentle, blessed, earthly 
affections) putting on immortality, is the highest concep- 
tion we can form of man's kingship and priesthood in the 
city of God. 

And yet this last great bliss shall be ours ! While it 
is a gross error to think of the affections as left behind 
us at death, and love's memories as lost in an impersonal 
and purely spiritual being — and while we are not to sup- 
pose that in heaven even the supreme love to God is so 



THE MORTAL IMMORTALIZED. 239 



to absorb all our affections that other relationships will 
be ignored; yet it is a grosser error to suppose that 
aught of the imperfect or carnal goes with the human 
heart to its immortal sphere. Our love even for each 
other will not be what it is here. Very much of the 
present form and fashion of social life will fall off— as 
the exuviae of insects rising from the dust to purer and 
brighter fellowship on wings and in sunshine. 

We shall not be selfish nor sensuous in heaven. We 
shall not distrust nor deceive one another in heaven. 
We shall not think unkindly nor speak slanderously 
of each other in heaven ! and those will be social 
circles gloriously transformed, where a love pure as the 
angel's and unselfish as God's shall bind heart to heart 
with ties which death can not breathe upon. And it will 
be a rapturous experience that baptism of the human 
heart with the living water — that induement of these 
mortal loves with the pomp of immortality. 

But the text teaches more than this. There is intima- 
tion here of the soul's introduction to higher companion- 
ship. We shall understand then how God's great uni- 
verse, with all its systems and constellations and clus- 
ters, is indeed only one great family mansion ; and all 
orders of the higher life, only one blessed social circle ; 
and all eternal realities only spheres and scenes for the 
purified affections; and heaven itself only the palace 
and throne-room for the mortal love that hath put on 
immortality ! 

And this is our highest conception of the true heaven- 
ly blessedness. For fair as will be the risen body when 
fashioned like unto Christ's glorious body ; and won- 
drous as may be the attributes of the risen spirit en- 



210 THE MORTAL IMMORTALIZED. 



throned amid the high things of immensity and eternity, 
yet better than all is this thought of these earthly affec- 
tions lifted unto the heavenly ! — the pomp and power of 
immortality round the human heart ! 

For such an experience we are looking. We are 
"mortal" now; we shall " put on the immortality !" and 
how grand and solemn things earth and time should seem 
to us — and how, as through dissolving vapor, should flash 
ever on faith's eye the great prizes of the after-life ! 

We stand this hour on the border line of these tremen- 
dous transformations ! The wings are already stirring 
under the film of the chrysalis ! 

The imprisoned bird is waxing strong to rend the 
wires and soar to the sunshine ! 

The great earthquake is rolling back the stone and 
loosing the seal from the grave of the redeemed mortal. 
And presently shall the things that eye hath not seen, 
nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived — be 
around us and upon us, as a rapturous life and experi- 
ence. "This corruption shall have put on incorruption" 
— " this mortal shall have put on immortality." 



A SPECTACLE TO ANGELS. 



" We are a spectacle to angels." — I. Coeinthians, iv. 9. 

We separate these words from their connection, as 
teaching an independent and important truth. Although 
referring specially to apostolic life, they imply that all 
human life is watched by the angels. Our version gives 
ns hardly the full force of the passage. In the original it 
is Seargov — rendered rightly in the margin — " a The- 
atre." The reference being to the ancient amphitheatre 
— the floor of which, called the arena, was surrounded 
by circular seats capable of containing many thousands 
of spectators. Here the trained athlete contended for 
the prize in the ancient games. On such an arena Paul 
represents himself as acting, while the angelic host look 
down from their seats as " a great cloud of witnesses." 
In its widest reference the text teaches, that in this 
sense, our woeld is a theatre or arena, whereon men 
act their various parts, as in a drama, " a spectacle to 
angels." And this thought is at one with all Bible testi- 
mony. It teaches that from the first our planet has been 
an object of absorbing interest to all spiritual beings. 
It was so, perhaps, before the creation of man. The 
fancy of the scientist may involve a great truth. 
He supposed that, when there had been revolt in 
ll 



242 



A SPECTACLE TO ANGELS. 



heaven, in the old geologic eras, this world, in a half-cha- 
otic state, received Lucifer and his angels as a prison- 
house — that here they were witnesses to its slow progress 
into a human dwelling-place, watching with malignant 
hate man's first happiness, achieving with malignant joy 
his apostasy, and overwhelmed at* iast with malignant 
anguish by his triumphant redemption. 

There seems intimation of something like this in the 
first prophecy of the Bible, where, in the curse pro- 
nounced upon the old serpent, — " Dust shalt thou eat all 
the days of thy life," — it would seem that Satan was no 
longer permitted to wander through the universe, but 
was restrained to the poor planet he had attempted to 
ruin, compelled to witness the progress of redemption, 
and to undergo final defeat — his head utterly bruised 
under the heel of the seed of the .woman. There is 
surely nothing improbable in the thought that the holy 
angels watched the evolution of Divine Wisdom in cre- 
ation — matter wedded to life, and life rising into intellect, 
until over the glorious consummation "the morning stars 
sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy." 

But imagination apart, it is a matter of revelation, 
that since the creation of man earth has been, in the full 
meaning of the text, " a spectacle to angels." And a spec- 
tacle every way worthy their consideration. God seems 
to have intended this planet as an arena for exhibiting 
moral character in all its varieties. The drama of 
human life has been cast in three great moral acts. 

1. A race unfallen and sinless. 

2. A race apostate and accursed. 

3. A race redeemed and regenerate — and in transition 
to glory. 



A SPECTACLE TO ANGELS. 243 



And as displaying the Divine attributes, the angels 
are represented as bending down to study all of them. 
The first scene was one of blissful and holy human life> 
And endowed, as the first man was, with every power of 
perseverance in holiness, and plied with every motive to 
retain it, and radiant as the earth was with all material 
loveliness, and the positive glory of the revealed and com- 
muning Godhead ; that first blessed act in the drama of 
human life was fittingly " a spectacle to angels" 

But the drama changed — the second scene is a loorld 
apostate and accursed. An exhibition is now to be made 
of the terrible nature of sin, as seen alike in the malice 
of the tempter, and the misery of the tempted. And 
behold ! over a world blasted and blackened, and beneath 
skies gathered as a thick curtain over the face of Divine 
Love, man walked a sinner on a befitting stage. And 
when you consider the whole plot and progress of the 
drama — all the exhibitions of moral character under this 
fearful inspiration of sin — man with no light but nature's 
■ — man with the uncertain light of tradition — man amid 
the abominations of false worship — man under the cloud- 
ed glories of the dispensations of patriarch and Levite — 
man amid the full Gospel light of the risen sun of right- 
eousness — the whole wondrous development of redemp- 
tion, from the first promise at the gate of a lost para- 
dise, down through those ages of antediluvian depravity, 
down through all those slowly evolving ritualisms to the 
tragic scene of Calvary, down through all the Gospel's 
subsequent triumphs — when, I say, you consider all this 
progress and development of redemption — justification by 
the Divine Son — sanctification by the Divine Spirit — man, 
a willing captive to the great destroyer — man, a straggler 



244: A SPECTACLE TO ANGELS. 



in the armor of God against all the powers of darkness — 
then this second act in the drama of human life seems not 
unworthily " a spectacle to angels.'''' But even upon this 
scene of sinfulness and suffering is the curtain to fall. 
And when it rises again, it will be upon an arena and an 
act even worthier angelic regard. Earth is not always 
to remain a theatre of conflict with evil. Even now the 
creature groans for deliverance from this unwilling bond- 
age. And it shall be delivered. Out of the wreck and 
ruin of the present system of things, as a platform fitted 
for the manifestation of triumphant holiness, shall come 
forth the " new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness." 
And then shall the moral be even fairer than the mate- 
rial — for the race, re-established in holiness, shall walk 
the earth in the development and exhibition of excel- 
lencies hitherto undreamed of ; and then, at least, tho 
ever-varying scenes of a drama wherein a redeemed race 
act upon a redeemed world will seem worthily " a specta- 
cle to angels.'''' 

Now this is the general truth which the text sets forth. 
But it is with its special and practical application to our- 
selves as individuals we are at present concerned. Not 
more true was it of the apostle than of every one of us, 
that in all the acts of mortal life we are moving on this 
earth " a spectacle to angels" It is a plain truth of rev- 
elation, that these glorious beings are ever around us. 
They are represented not only as "ministering unto the 
heirs of salvation," but as watchful of even their seem- 
ingly most trivial interests, "beariDg them up, lest they 
dash their foot against a stone." So they walk with us 
by the way ; they sit with us in the dwelling they over- 
shadow us with their wings in the busy day, and keep 



A SPECTACLE TO ANGELS. 245 



watch over us in the still chamber, through the solemn 
night. And assuming this truth as no poetic fancy, but 
as plainly revealed in God's Word, let us consider its 
practical application. And 

First — For encouragement and consolation amid the 
trials of life. This is the application Paul gives it in 
the context. Terribly ironical as the description is, it 
has yet evidently the meaning of a contrast between his 
own condition and that of the Corinthians. While they 
were " strong " and " honorable," " and reigned as kings," 
he was appointed of God, for wise purposes, to "hunger" 
and " thirst," and " nakedness," and " trials," and " perse- 
cutions," to end only in death. And it is as enduring 
all these sufferings, he here speaks of himself as a spec- 
tacle to angels ! And while this is not his chief thought, 
it is surely implied here that by the faith, and patience, 
and fortitude wherewith he was enduring "his great 
fight of affliction," he was "adorning the Gospel" in the 
sight of men and angels— And a most consoling thought 
it is. To comparatively few does God afford opportu- 
nity of activety doing great things for Christ, but unto 
all come abundant occasions of exhibiting the power 
of grace in suffering / And, as set forth in the text, in 
its tendency to honor God, the quiet virtue seems to 
have the advantage over the splendid achievement. 
For it is not in any of his own heroic acts, of oratory or 
miracle working, that Paul represents himself as especially 
observed by the angels, but in those hours of meekness 
and lowliness, when he was persecuted, and defamed, 
and made the offscouring of all things, and appointed 
unto death. And so it is always. 

The especial blessing of our Lord in his sermon on the 



216 A SPECTACLE TO AJSfGELS. 



Mount was upon the gentler, and not the grander vir- 
tues. The meek, the merciful, the poor in spirit, the 
patient under persecution — upon these, rather than 
kings and conquerors, and mighty men, fell those "beati- 
tudes. And even in his own life, more truly Divine does 
he seem in his hours of humiliation, enduring the Cross, 
despising the shame, than in those kingly acts, when 
purifying the Temple and transfigured on Tabor ! And 
so we can all do as much for God and the Gospel by 
patient suffering as by active obedience. ■ To the man 
laid aside from public Christian duty — the rich man sunk 
into poverty — the eloquent man struck into silence — to 
the sick-bed of the poor, forgotten Christian — to the 
retreat of the forsaken and persecuted believer, come in 
their invisible glory these heavenly spirits ; and if there 
they behold a human heart abiding in patient faith the 
chastisement of the Father — a human soul, submissively 
as the Master, enduring the Cross, despising the shame ; 
then, as exhibiting the power of the Gospel, greater good 
may be done unto men, and greater glory come unto 
God, than by the most splen/lid achievement. And a 
precious truth it is. In a life wherein so few occasions 
are ours to do great things for God, and whose great law 
is suffering, it is blessed to think that it is especially 
when in sorrow, and agony, and death, we are " a spec- 
tacle to angels.'''' They come on their bright wings to 
our desolate homes, our darkened chambers, our sick-beds, 
and death-beds, and every whisper of submissive Chris- 
tian love sounds out as a grand hallelujah to the Infinite 
Glory, and .every gentle tear in the eye of faith flashes as 
a gem of immense price in the diadem of their God. 
Passing this, consider this truth. Secondly — As a 



A SPECTACLE TO ANGELS. 247 



ground of exhortation. As herein represented, we are all 
a walking earth as a theatre— actors in a drama — " a specta- 
cle to angels." And how are we acting ? You may be 
this day an impenitent man ; and, if so, the part you are 
acting is one solemn beyond all description or conception 
— the part of an imperiled man with an immortal soul to 
save! For just such acting is this life-stage fitted. A 
dark and disquieting world it is at the best. And though 
beautiful forms of temptation have come forth to beguile 
you, yet, the while, things to terrify from evil have been 
with and around you, even nature alarms you — thunders 
utter their voices, and the earth quakes, and graves open 
at your feet— And then revelation adds to these terrors. 
Oh, what solemn scenery it arranges around you. Here 
Sinai with its fire, and there Calvary with its Cross, and 
beyond, as seen in solemn perspective, a death-bed — a 
resurrection — a judgment-seat — eternity, now dark with 
nameless gloom, now bright with wondrous glory ! And 
on a stage like this, with all heaven gazing earnestly and 
ever, are you thinking, speaking, acting for eternity ! 
And now tell me, you that live as if this earth were to 
remain forever your abiding-place, and put away fear, and 
restrain prayer as verily as if there were no God, and no 
judgment, and no immortality — sporting^with life and 
soul and salvation as a child with the baubles it breaks 
— and tell me if you are acting well your part before 
this great cloud of witnesses ! Have you won the ap- 
plauses of that glorious audience? Hath it not been 
rather with gestures of disproval — with whispers of 
astonishment and indignation, they have watched you 
as acting the part of a man with an imperiled soul to 
save, you have walked this darkened world " a specta- 



248 



A SPECTACLE TO ANGELS. 



cle to angels." Or you may be to-day a true child of 
God; and then the part you are acting, if less terrible, 
is scarcely less solemn : for it is that of a redeemed man 
in the service of the Redeemer. In reference to this very 
thought, the writer of the text repeatedly speaks of the 
believer as having "put on Christ" i. e., in language 
figurative of the drama — assumed his character — as a 
tragedian assumes that of the hero he personates. Thus, 
to " put on " or personate the Lord Jesus is the part you 
are to act on this theatre of life, as " a spectacle to 
angels.'''' 

And for such acting, also, is the world-stage fitted. For 
it is the self-same world wherein he personally acted. 
The same earth lies at your feet, and the same skies bend 
over you. The same sinful and suffering humanity is 
ever around you. The same realities of eternity rise in 
transparencies beyond you ; and the same audience of 
angels who watched him in the garden, and on the cross, 
are always observing you. And tell me, if you seem unto 
yourselves, acting your magnificent part well ? As you 
remember your past life, and think of your slothfulness 
and sin, and your conformity to the world, and how few 
words you have spoken, and how few works you have 
done for the salvation of lost men ; and how little you 
have sacrificed, and suffered for your Master ; how, in 
short, the seeming law of your daily life has been a 
search and a struggle for the wealth and pleasure and 
honor of this perishing world ! And then, in the con- 
trast, think of the daily life of your great pattern — how 
it was all a service of God and man, living ever as if 
earth were a stranger-land, and heaven the eternal home, 
-how meek he was, how forgiving, how humble, how 



A SPECTACLE TO ANGELS. 



249 



gentle; how he counted not his life clear unto him that 
he might do the will of him that sent him, but bowed 
himself uncomplainingly to the betrayal and the bruising, 
and the crown of thorns, and the cross; yea, to the hiding 
of his loving Father's face, and the death of mysterious 
and immeasurable anguish, for the salvation of sinners 
and the redemption of a world — as you think thus of 
the whole style of his earthly life, tell me if these same 
angels, watching you as they watched him, have fixed on 
you admiring eyes, and lifted up applauding voices, saying 
in regard to every act of this great life-drama, " Well 
done good and faithful, — that is just like Christ." 

Ah, my hearers, whether penitent or impenitent — infi- 
del or believer, your past lives have been parts of a great 
drama, thus witnessed by all the crowned creatures of 
eternity. And have you acted it well, as a " spectacle to 
angels?" Surely our lives should henceforth be better 
representations of the solemn parts set before us. 

Meanwhile, there is another aspect in which the text 
is exhortatory. As thus a spectacle to angels, it may be 
said, in one sense, we can choose the parts we are to act 
in their presence. All unknown as, in the main, is the 
future history of us all, and kindly hidden as are the 
scenes wherein, even on the morrow, we shall individu- 
ally appear in this drama of life, yet there are some 
things common and certain to us all, and in regard of 
them we can choose at least our own style of acting. 
And it becomes us to consider them well ere the curtain 
rise, and we stand in their midst. Take them in their 
order : — 

1. A death-scene! — A darkened chamber. A couch 
shaken convulsively. A company of heart-broken rela- 
11* 



250 A SPECTACLE TO ANGELS. 



tives keeping watch by the beloved and departing one. 
Such the scene. And for an actor — behold ! A poor 
lover of pleasure, who put his eternity carefully away 
from him, living only for this world. Now witness his 
acting as it seems unto ano-els. Behold ! That wan face ; 
that wild and faded eye; that convulsed framework; 
those feeble hands, lifted as to repel some shape of ter- 
ror. Listen! That sob; that cry of anguish: "Oh, do 
not let me die !" " I can not die !" " I rejected the 
Saviour !" " I am lost, lost, lost !" 

2. The next is a judgment-scene! — The heavens and 
the earth have passed away from the awful face of God. 
The great white throne is set. The books are opened ; 
and the risen dead, small and great, stand before God ; 
and around, in solemn witness, are gathered all spiritual 
creatures. And again this poor worldling appears upon 
the stage, " a spectacle to angels." And see it, that look 
of hopeless anguish ; that convulsion ; that glance above, 
before, around, as if for some avenue of escape, as there 
falls on the shrinking sense the appalling sentence — 
" Depart! — depart!" 

3. The last scene is in eternity ! — Go ponder it as pic- 
tured in God's solemn book. I know not what it means 
— " the smoke of the torment, the blackness of darkness 
for ever and ever." Thanks unto God that the curtain 
lifts not yet from the immortality of ungodliness ! But 
to^one standing close to that curtain, as the light of rev- 
elation shines through as a transparency, there are seen 
strange and shadowy things, there are heard strange 
and startling sounds, giving assurance to us at least, that 
the drama darkens in that last eternal act, and becomes 
terribly tragic as " a spectacle to angels?'' 



A SPECTACLE TO ANGELS. 251 

# 

This is one style of acting. Consider, in contrast, the 
other ! The same stage — the same scenery — but all else 
different ! 

1. Again the death-scene ! — The same darkened cham- 
ber. The same group of weeping friends. But how 
changed the action ! True, the poor body is wasted and 
wan in the sore conflict. And yet, as if the pinnacles of 
the celestial city were bursting on the sight ! See the 
radiant fire in the eye ! the rapturous smile on the lip ! 
Hear those words, feeble, yet joyous in faith and love : 
" Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of 
death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me !" Behold 
that fixed look heavenward, as the ransomed spirit 
spreads wing for its place in the many mansions ! 

2. The same scene of judgment ! — The same great 
white throne — with the open books— the assembled uni- 
verse — the glorified Immanuel ! And again a man walk- 
ing that sublime stage, " a spectacle to angels." But 
the action different ! See how joyously that lifted eye 
drinks in the glory of the Redeemer's face. Note that 
look of triumph, that cry of rapture, at the approving 
sentence : " Come, ye blessed of my Father, enter into 
the joy of thy Lord !" 

3. Again, a scene laid in eternity. — But here, stage, 
scenery, acting, all different. We have no thought to 
depict them. Even inspired imagination could only 
labor, overborne, when speaking of the shapes of sur- 
passing loveliness, and the sounds of surpassing har- 
mony, the thrones of power, the diadems of glory, the 
palaces and temples and triumphs of heaven ! The cur- 
tain lifts not yet from the platform whereon the redeemed 
and risen man walks in the presence of God. But to one 



252 A SPECTACLE TO A F G EL S. 

approaching that concealing veil there will flash a lustre 
as of uncreated glory, and sound cadences as of seraphic 
voices in rapturous hallelujah to fill the deadest soul with 
aspiration to have part in so sublime a drama. 

Such, shortly, are the two styles of human action on 
the great theatre of life. And for each of us, just behind 
this massive curtain, are stage and scenery being pre- 
pared ! And we are here to choose, each for himself, the 
style of his performance. And now, tell me how you 
will act your solemn part — O immortal man ! as — " a 
spectacle to angels." 

Oh, that God would give power to this picture'of the 
text — "a theatre unto the angels." Oh, that some spirit, 
with a pencil dipped in heaven's own light, would work 
the scene fittingly on the canvas, — a fire-doomed earth, 
canopied by a darkened heaven, and as on a great stage 
■ — the mortal-immortal man acting his solemn part — a 
* sjjectacle to angels ; and we could hang that picture up in 
our places of business and pleasure, in counting-room, and 
workshop, and social circle, and sanctuary ; and through it 
should ever blaze eternal light with a meaning of heaven ; 
and all things visible and earthly be colored by the sol- 
emn illumination ; then we should all go forth to act our 
parts differently. While here in the flesh we should seem 
scarcely of the world, and presently when the mortal act 
is ended, and this gay drapery of life falls off, and the 
world stands revealed a cold skeleton, then ascending to 
the higher and trans-sepulchral life, to act nobler parts in 
the service of the Master, with the palms we here 
gathered for his mediatorial triumph, and the stars we 
have set in our crowns of rejoicing, standing in our 
places near the eternal throne, we shall look up adoringly 



A SPECTACLE TO ANGELS. 253 

into his beloved face, and lay trophy and diadem at his 
burning feet, in glory and rapture and love, " a spec- 
tacle unto angels /" 



THANKFULNESS. 



u Be thankful." — Psalm c. 4. 

We have just read in your hearing the proclamation 
of the executive, enjoining upon this commonwealth 
the observance of its accustomed day of annual thanks- 
giving. But, much as we like the custom, we are yet 
disposed to doubt, whether the mere appointment of the 
day, with all its ancestral prestige and executive sanc- 
tion, will render it to us individually, a truly religious 
festival; unless by solemn meditation we are prepared 
for its observance. It is rather an easy thing to omit for 
half a day our ordinary business ; to assemble in God's 
house for rather a long service ; and then retire to the 
enjoyment of rather an elaborate dinner. But this, we 
think, is not performing precisely the religious duty of 
thankfulness and thanksgiving. And, as preparatory to 
that service, we propose, at present, some very plain and 
practical observations on the duty in general. 

The exhortation in our text — " to be thankful " — in- 
cludes, of course, both the inner emotion and its outward 
expression, — 

A Subjective Thankfulness, and 

An Objective Thanksgiving. 

Now, I need hardly define the word " Thankfulness" 



TEA JSFKF UL NESS. 



255 



It is already in its last analysis. It denotes a composite 
emotion, whose elements are, Joy for a gift, and love for 
the giver. Differing from gratitude, not essentially, but 
only in form. The one being necessarily, a feeling only ; 
the other that feeling both existent and expressed. 

Passing then at once to its practical and personal con- 
sideration. What we have to say may be embraced, if 
not very logically, yet we trust somewhat profitably, 
under these three divisions : — 

The Hlnderances. 

The Helps, and 

The Reasons of Thankf ulness. 

Beginning with the Hinder unces, which practically 
interfere with this great moral and Christian duty, we 
are struck with surprise that there should be any such 
hinderances. This experience and expression of grati- 
tude for Divine favors, has its foundation, as a duty, in 
the very nature of things. For, as we can by no equiva- 
lent recompense God for his mercies, it seems positively 
unnatural, not to cherish a lively sense of his goodness, 
and give utterance to the feeling on appropriate occa- 
sions. Nevertheless, in this as in many another good 
thing, we are manifestly hindered. And setting ourselves 
to understand this strange thing, unthankfulness, we 
find, to our surprise, that the vice, like its opposite vir- 
tue, has its foundation in a very principle of our nature. 

The old Saxon word, " Grymetan" whence comes our 
Anglo-Saxon, " to grumble,'''' expresses only an original 
law of the human constitution. For analyzed carefully, 
and hope, or expectation of future good, will be found 
the grand element of the exercise. A happy feeling, 
indeed, in an unfallen spirit. But in a fallen, resulting 



256 



TEA NKF UL NESS. 



in dissatisfaction with the present — and thus in grum- 
bling. And so we find that this dissatisfaction began 
even in Eden. Eve fretting, fault-finding, grumbling, 
about the forbidden tree in the midst of the garden. 
And thence as a true lineal exercise it has been manifest 
in all her descendants. The infant in its mother's arms 
— the school-boy on his way to school — the husband- 
man at the weather — the doctor at the night-call — the 
merchant about the markets — the lawyer about retain- 
ing-fees — the parson about his salary. Indeed the whole 
human race imitate their first mother, and complain- 
ingly grumble. It is a law of our nature, and like other 
laws has its uses. It will be found, upon careful exami- 
nation, that even the bodily exercises of crying and 
groaning, are grand operations whereby nature mitigates 
and allays anguish. A physician will tell you, that a 
patient who gives free course to these natural feelings, 
will recover sooner from accidents and operations, than 
another, who, thinking it unmanly to cry and groan, 
represses resolutely all such manifestations. He will 
relate cases, where violent cryings and roarings have 
greatly reduced excited pulses, and soothed the nervous 
system, thus preventing or allaying fever, and insuring 
in many diseases a favorable termination. And so he 
rather encourages these tears and groanings in patients 
while undergoing violent surgical operations. And, in 
regard of restless and hypochondriacal subjects, who 
will always be under medical treatment, he knows that 
they can do nothing better for themselves, than groan 
all the day, and cry all the night. 

In this point of view grumbling is medicinal ; — an 
operation whereby nature relieves sorrow. And as we 



TEA 1SFKF IT L JSF E S S. 



257 



do not find fault with tears, no more should we find 
fault with querulous words, spoken shortly and seasona- 
bly. They are escape-valves of anguish, they relieve 
sensibilities, and so do good as a medicine. Indeed, he 
that has nothing to grumble about can not be comforta- 
ble, because he has nothing to complain of, and therefore 
nothing to desire, and having nothing to anticipate, can 
never be happy. 

But then this genial, good-natured, medicinal, and so 
beneficial grumbling, degenerates almost universally 
into downright, malignant, everlasting fault-finding ; 
and then — like all medicine taken as a daily aliment — it 
becomes positively hurtful. It impairs the freshness 
and healthfulness of the mind ; induces morbid, rheu- 
matic, neuralgic moods of thought ; makes the man a 
torture to himself, and a curse to the neighborhood ; 
weakens his influence ; destroys his character ; renders 
him a wretch here, and tends inevitably to render him 
wretched forever. And so, although we find this root of 
thanklessness in a primal law of our nature, yet its mani- 
festations result from various things which we have 
termed obstacles to thankfulness. Of these I mention — 

First — The habit of looking too much at other people^ 
and too little at ourselves. Quite manifest is it, that very 
much of our discontent arises from a consideration of 
our neighbors. Others are richer, or more honorable, 
or beautiful, or successful than ourselves — others treat 
us with neglect, or injustice — others are guilty of mani- 
fest short-comings or overt iniquities ; and so, our poor 
life-bark, overladen with other men's wares, labors pain- 
fully on the seas, signals of distress flying from its every 
mast, and the sound of its minute-guns making night a 



258 



TEA JSFKF UL NESS. 



burden. Whereas, if the poor man would go into his 
own heart, and fling overboard all but his own. peculiar 
cares and troubles, and sit down to feast on the rich 
viands God has gathered as his sea-stores, then his light- 
ened and relieved bark would float buoyantly on the 
waters, and answer readily her helm, and with glad 
songs and bright skies go on her way rejoicing. But, 
then, this looking too much at the things of others is 
not our only difficulty, and we remark, therefore, 

Secondly — That in looking to ourselves ice are accus- 
tomed to let the mind, dwell too much on the dark side of 
our experience. Rather upon what ice have not, than 
upon what ice have. Rather upon the Divine chastise- 
ment than the Divine benefaction. It is the sjiots upon 
the sun that the astronomer talks of. It is when under 
an eclipse, that the moon and stars are most carefully 
observed. It is the one river with the cataract, and not 
the thousand rivers with their unbroken water-courses 
that tourists throng to. 

In contemplating the history of a year, it is impossible 
in a probationary life, that it should have brought only 
uninterrupted gladness ; and so, the thought fastens on 
the fairer things that might have been, rather than the 
fair things that have been. The ten thousand daily 
blessings wherewith God has been rounding our lives, 
are lost sight of in the occasional clouds of difficulty that 
may have checkered, our pathway. "We think more of 
the one thousand dollars lost, than of the twenty thou- 
sand left us. More of the one month of sickness, than 
the eleven months of health. More of the one beloved 
friend dead, than of the many beloved yet living. More 
of the mournful silence in the one sepulchre, than of all 



TEA NKF ULJSTBSS. 



259 



the sweet voices of our happy households. Whereas, if 
just reversing this process, we would look more at the 
bright side of things — at the stars that are not eclipsed ; 
at the bright streams that are not broken by cataracts ; 
at the profits of our business, and not at its losses ; at 
the seats filled at the board and hearth, and not at the 
seats vacant ; then these earthly homes, which Ave are 
filling with mourning, and over whose portals we have 
written in black capitals, " Rooms to let to the Sorrows" 
would flash again with festal lustres, and resound with 
festal songs ; and seem to all who go by, the sweet and 
fair homes of God's happy, thankful children. Nor is 
this indeed the whole of it, for observe — 

Thirdly — That even while considering our mercies, 
there is a habit of thought which hinders our thankful- 
ness. I mean that — of regarding the first gift of a good 
thing as alone demanding gratitude, and its subsequent 
preservation as a natural sequence. Now nature is 
not a power but a process. Preservation is positively a 
constant creation. And so, as truly as if it were done 
sensibly and immediately, God gives us a new sun every 
morning, and hangs new stars every night in the firma- 
ment ; and gives us, by an Almighty act, put forth 
every moment, each process of a new life, and each adapta- 
tion and blessedness of a new home and world. In other 
words, we think only of the added, and not of the pre- 
served mercy — looking upon the continued possession 
of old blessings as resulting from the stability of the 
sequences of nature, and only upon the new and su- 
peradded blessing, as the positive and direct gift of 
God. And what we want, is that true philosophic faith 
which sees God putting forth creative power in every 



260 



TEA NKFTJ LNESS. 



hour's preservation; so that when we go into life's 
tabernacle, and see how carefully it has been builded, 
and how exquisitely furnished, till it looks like the 
dwelling in the wilderness of a heavenly monarch's 
children, — it shall seem to us an immediate gift of God, 
as if just at the present moment, with all its goodful 
and joyous things, it had — like the Apocalyptic vision 
of the New Jerusalem — descended, by a great miracle, 
out of heaven. 

Now, although I have but just entered upon a consid- 
eration of these obstacles of thankfulness, yet the re- 
mainder of our subject compels me to leave other things 
unsaid, and go on to consider — 

Secondly — The Helps to Thankfulness. Of course, 
the first thing is to get rid of these obstacles. But 
having considered this already in passing, let us advance 
to some practical and general rules for strengthening 
our thankfulness. And — 

First — We must entertain just and philosophic views 
of life's nature and mission. We are here in this world 
only as in a pupilage — or transition state — for states 
higher and better, and must learn to judge things 
and value them only for their uses. A man, cross- 
ing an ocean on shipboard, is not discontented be- 
cause he can not carry with him his sumptuous furniture 
and equipage ; and grumbles not that his state-room 
hath not the breadth and brilliancy of his palatial pavil- 
ions. His very gladness is, that he is in a structure so 
modeled and circumscribed, that it can have speed upon 
the waters. And just so it is with a man in progress to 
immortality. What he wants is rather a tent, that can 
be pitched and struck at pleasure ; and provisions of a 



TEA NKF UL NESS. 



261 



style and kind that can be carried in journeys ; than a 
splendid palace, and ponderous luxuries, incapable of 
transportation. And so a true appreciation of the real 
uses of things, will go far to render us thankful for the 
peculiar size and shape of the blessings God gives us. 
Then, as before intimated, 

Secondly — We must dwell much in thought upon these 
Divine mercies, present and actual. We are too much 
given to day-dreams and reveries amid things possible 
and future. We lift the glass of imagination to the far 
hills, that, mellowed by distance and haloed with the 
purple and gold of the setting sun, look like lands of 
fairy, and grow impatient and dissatisfied with the 
present and possessed. And yet, there is no one in 
whose present experience there is not mingled very much 
— enough at least for constant thankfulness — of comfort 
and blessedness. And what we want, is a disposition to 
sit down and count and acknowledge our mercies. 

Perhaps you do not all know the origin on this conti- 
nent of these annual thanksgiving days. It was on 
this wise, and on the point under review is altogether 
instructive. When the New England colonies were 
first planted, the settlers endured many privations and 
difficulties. Being piously disposed they laid their dis- 
tresses before God in frequent days of fasting and 
prayer. Constant meditation on such topics kept their 
minds gloomy and discontented, and made them dis- 
posed even to return to their father-land, with all its 
persecutions. At length when it was again proposed to 
appoint a day of fasting and prayer, a plain, common- 
sense old colonist rose in the meeting, and remarked, 
that he thought they had brooded long enough over 



262 



TEA NKF TIL NESS. 



their misfortunes; and that it seemed high time they 
should consider some of their mercies. That the colony- 
was growing strong — the fields increasing in harvests — 
the rivers full of fish, and the woods of game — the air 
sweet — the climate salubrious — their wives obedient — and 
their children dutiful. Above all that they possessed, what 
they came for, full civil and religious liberty. And 
therefore, on the whole, he would amend their resolution 
for a Fast, and propose, in its stead, a day of Thanks- 
giving. His advice was taken, and from that day to 
this, whatever may have been the disastrous experience 
of New England, the old stock of the Puritans have 
ever found enough of good in their cup to warrant them 
in appointing this great annual festival. Passing this 
we observe, 

Thirdly — Tliat in order to be thankful, we must 
make the best of our misfortunes. What the Germans 
tell us as a parable, we have, all of us — who have 
gone afield with nature in observant moods — witnessed 
not unfrequently. Standing by some autumnal, and 
over-matured flower, we have seen the laborious bee come 
hurrying and humming, and- plunging into the flower's 
cup, where there was not a particle of honey. But what 
does the bee do ? Why, after sucking, and sucking, and 
finding no nectar, does it come up from the flower's heart 
with a disappointed air, as if departing to some other 
field of labor ? Ah no ! If there be no sweets at the 
flower's red core, yet its stamens are full of golden 
farina, and out of the farina the bee builds its cells ; and 
so it rolls its little legs against these stamens, till they 
look large and loaded as golden hose, and thanking the 
flower as sweetly as if it had been full of honey, gladly 



TEA N KFULNESS. 



263 



humming it flies home with its wax. Yes, and herein 
lies God's moral — If our flowers have no honey, let us 
be glad of the wax ! 

And this reminds me of another incident connected 
with the appointment of thanksgiving days. When our 
national independence had been triumphantly achieved, 
the Colonies, of Course, held great general jubilee. And 
good King George, Avho had been sadly worsted in the 
' conflict, thinking himself quite as pious as his disloyal 
subjects — and not to be outdone in godliness by such 
rebels against the Divine right — appointed also a day of 
thanksgiving for the restoration of peace to his long 
disturbed empire. In the vicinity of the monarch's resi- 
dence, then Windsor Castle, dwelt a most estimable 
minister of the Church, who shared his sovereign's 
intimacy, and conversed with him freely. On this oc- 
casion the worthy divine ventured to say : — 

" Your majesty has sent out a proclamation for a day 
of thanksgiving. For what are we to give thanks ? Is 
it because your majesty has lost thirteen of the fairest 
jewels from your crown ?" 

" No, no," replied the monarch, " not for that !" 

"Well, then, shall we give thanks because so many 
millions of treasure have been spent in this war, and so 
many millions added to the public debt ?" 

" No, no," again replied the king, " not for that !" 

" Shall we, then, give thanks that so many thousands 
of our fellow-men have poured out their life-blood in this 
unhappy and unnatural struggle, between those of the 
same race and religion ?" 

" No, no," exclaimed George, for the third time ; " not 
that !" 



264 



TEA NKF UL NESS. 



"For what, then, may it please your majesty, are we 
to give thanks ?" asked again the pious divine. 

" Thank God !" cried the king most energetically ; 
" Thank God that it is not any worse !" 

Yes, and here is a reason for thankfulness in all circum- 
stances, since it is never so had with us as it might be. 
And even if God be pouring out the vials of his anger, 
yet blessed be his name ! He never empties them to the 
uttermost. 

But then this making the best of trials and disappoint- 
ments involves much more than simply enduring them, 
in view of their accompanying mercies. — And we 
observe, 

Fourthly — That we must, meanwhile, learn to look 
upon 'these very evils as GocTs disguised blessinys. 
To every true Christian they are so, positively, and be- 
yond controversy. As part of the special Providence 
of a wise and loving Father, they can not be otherwise. 
It is God that determines the bounds of our habitation ; 
the stations we are to fill; the comforts we are to enjoy; 
and the trials we are to suffer. And if we have not much 
of the present world, it is not because our heavenly 
Father is not able to give us more. It is all to be re- 
solved into the wisdom and kindness of the Divine ad- 
ministration — God's wisdom discerning how much is 
best for us — and his love determining to allow us no 
more. As a truth alike of experience and revelation, 
these present afflictions are salutary. They produce in 
the soul, by a most philosophic process, the peaceable 
fruits of righteousness. And as grace is the measure, 
and very element, of glory ; so, by enlarging heavenly 
exercises in the soul*, " do these light afflictions which are 



THANKFULNESS. 



265 



for a moment, work out for us a far more exceeding and 
eternal weight of glory.' 1 '' They are but the storms on 
the water driving the bark toward the haven ! but the 
darkness of the midnight making glorious heaven's stars ! 
And therefore as real, though disguised, mercies, are 
afflictions to be regarded as they relate to God's true 
children. And this leads us, as a direction including all 
others, to remark, 

Fifthly — That to become truly thankful, we must he- 
come Christians — and Christians growing in grace and 
advancing in knowledge. We have no limits for an en- 
larged consideration of the philosophic tendency of 
earnest piety to produce gratitude and gladness — but 
must confine ourselves to a few points of its illustration. 

Religion makes a man humble — and humility, as a 
grace, lies at the foundation of contentment. If the 
Christian's lot be low, he thinks more meanly of himself 
than others can think of him, and is in no way disquieted 
at other men's opinions. If his daily mercies seem small, 
he feels, that, being unworthy of anything, by every 
elevation of his condition above death and hell, he fares 
better than he deserves, and gives thanks for that eleva- 
tion, with true love and rejoicing. And, contrasting his 
condition at its worst with that of his Saviour, feels that 
a universe would cry, " Shame !" if he should not be 
thankful, while faring better than the Master, he has " a 
place to lay his head !" 

Meanwhile, religion gives him just views of present 
things, and of the true relation he sustains to them, in 
this earthly economy. They never seem to him ends, but 
only means unto ends. He understands how his present 
life is a. sojourn; an exodus. And as a true-hearted 
12 



266 



TEA NKFUL NESS. 



traveler, he expects not home-comforts on a journey; 
but is content with rude fare and humble hosteiries, and 
can thank God even for rough roads and foul weather, 
if they hinder not his progress. 

Moreover, religion, as it is essentially a principle of 
self-denial, moderates a man's icis/ies, and so creates 
happiness. Diogenes was happier in his tub, than 
Alexander on the throne of his empire. And for a good 
reason — because the tub held the wishes of the philoso- 
pher ; but the world was too small for those of the 
conqueror. The real necessities of our nature are few 
and simple and easily satisfied. And all beyond this 
is the tyranny of fancy. The water drank by the beg- 
gar, from the wayside spring, is as sweet as when lifted 
to 'a king's lip in a golden chalice. The true want is 
relieved by the draught, but the fancied want not even 
by the goblet. And so the grand secret of content- 
ment is found, not in increasing our supplies, — but in 
diminishing our necessities. Not in revealing new 
worlds to satisfy Alexander ; but in transforming Alex- 
ander into Diogenes satisfied with his tub. 

Meanwhile, religion produces trustfulness, and so 
brings contentment. After all, the great secret of dis- 
content, is born of anticipation. These reveries and 
day-dreams are full of tormenting phantoms. Even 
if we are hoping for better things in the future, this 
very expectation begets dissatisfaction with the present. 
It places the heart in attitudes as unfavorable to pres- 
ent enjoyment, as that of a racer for observing the 
beautiful landscapes he is crossing. The butterfly we 
pursue is grasped at last, all bruised and shattered, 
just because we pursued it, — whereas, to him that sits 



THANKFULNESS. 



267 



contentedly down, there comes one flitting to his very 
hand, in all its wonderful and unmarred beauty. 

But, then, the staple of our anticipations is fear and 
foreboding ; we are always conjuring evil for the mor- 
row. In the present, things may be well enough. But 
not satisfied to enjoy the present, we are always, and at 
awful rates of interest, borrowing trouble from the 
future. Climbing mountains that are yet in the dis- 
tance ! Crossing bridges before we come to them. 
And so this whole habit of living in the future is 
fatal to all thankfulness, both for the past and the pres- 
ent ; and this, religion overcomes by making the man 
trustful. It makes him trustful for the present. With 
his sins forgiven, and his conscience at peace, he carries 
the celestial elements within his own bosom. And 
with wings of love and faith is ever soaring, eagle- 
like, in the sunshine of God's smile ; and abiding far 
above the serpents of discontent, that sting the dwellers 
in the dust - , and the clouds of despair, that fling shad- 
ows on the tents of the ungodly. But, more than all, 
religion makes the man trustful of the future. Even 
the earthly and mortal future he trusts gladly in God's 
hand. There may come to him trials, but he is sure of 
heavenly strength and consolation. With every cloud 
in the sky, God's rainbows to span it ! With every 
storm on the sea, the Divine Redeemer to still it ! And 
the more steep and rugged the pathway, only the 
straighter and nearer it lies toward his home ! 

Meanwhile, in regard to the immortal and heavenly 
future, does religion make the man trustful and thank- 
ful ? His faith is the veritable substance of things un- 
seen and hoped for; and he is mounting ever on its 



268 



TEA NKFULNESS. 



strong wings above all these poor clouds of the mortal, 
until he can catch through the lustrous gates of the 
Eternal City, its songs of gladness — its shapes of glory. 
He stands with John in his blessed exile ; he beholds 
those radiant trains go by — from their palms, their 
plumes, their robes, their diadems, flinging light that 
bathes the poor Patmos in a sea of heavenly splendor. 
He mounts with Paul in his strange rapture, higher 
and higher, till this poor world fades away in the dis- 
tance, and those loftier firmaments are ablaze with 
the ineffable lustres of the city of God ! Tea, he 
enters in ! — he stands in the golden street ! — he 
walks by the river of life !— he numbers " the hun- 
dred and forty-and-four thousand!" — he takes in 
that overwhelming perspective, rising tower above 
tower ! pinnacle above pinnacle ! throne above throne ! 
higher! higher! higher! " Things to come!" " Things 
to come!" He catches glimpses of those transcendent 
and unrevealed realities with whose unutterable mag- 
nificence Paul labored vainly when he cried, "The far 
more exceeding and eternal iceight of glory !" And 
though the immensity of the beatitude overwhelms 
him, as he thinks of his own insignificance and un- 
worthiness — and it seems too much to believe that 
such things can lie along the future of his experience — 
yet, he remembers the faith-strengthening argument, 
that "He who hath given his Son, will with him freely 
give us all things." And in wondering and adoring 
love, grasps the great promise of " All things !" Paul, 
and Apollos, and Cephas, and the world, and life, and 
death, and things present, and things to come." "All 
things !" — absolutely, " All things !" And a wise 



THANKFULNESS. 



269 



and sensible man, as he is, lie says — "This is enough 
for me, — surely this is enough for me." And so, con- 
tented with the present, and trustful for the future, 
he becomes, as he ought, a happy man, and a thankful. 

And now, leaving this point, as the first, most im- 
perfectly illustrated, let us pass to consider — 

Thirdly — The Reasons of Thankf ulness, or why we 
ought to be thankf ul f 

Of course, the first reason is, that our circumstances 
demand it. We have positively, every one of us, very 
much to be thankful for. Methinks it were enough to 
shame any man out of his miserable mood of grumbling, 
just to sit honestly down for an hour, and count over his 
blessings. Just contrast your own condition this day, 
with that of the exulting pilgrims, when they kept their 
first thanksgiving festival. See them, amid the soli- 
tudes of that great wilderness — the cry of the wild 
beast, and the roar of the strong wind rising around them 
— the loved homes of their childhood, and the precious 
temples of their fathers, far away over the waters — a 
barren soil beneath their feet ; and above, the cold and 
cheerless azure of a stranger-heaven ! And yet singing 
triumphantly unto God their Thanksgiving Anthem ! — 

"The breaking waves dashed high 
On a stern and rock -bound coast, 
And the woods, against a stormy sky, 
Their giant branches tossed ; 

"And the heavy night hung dark 
The hills and waters o'er, 
When a band of exiles moored their bark 
On the wild New England shore. 



270 



TEA NKF UL NESS. 



"The ocean-eagle soared 

From his nest by the white wave's foam, 
And the rocking pines of the forest roared — 
This was their welcome home ! 

"There were men with hoary hair, 
Amidst that pilgrim-band — 
"Who had come as . exiles to wither there 
Away from their childhood's land! 

" There was woman's fearless eye, 
Lit by her deep love's truth ; 
There was manhood's brow serenely high, 
And the fiery heart of youth. 

" Tet not as the sorrowing come, 
In silence and in fear — 
They shook the depths of the desert's gloom, 
"With their hymns of lofty cheer. 

"Amidst the storms they sang, 

And the stars heard, and the sea ! 
And the sounding aisles of the dim wood rang 
To the anthem of the free !" 

Thus — thus, did our forefathers make manifest their 
thankfulness to God for his mercies ! And shall we be less 
thankful ? Why, you will keep this festival in homes, 
and amid luxuries such as old monarchs never dreamed 
of ! Upon your boards will be viands and spicery from 
all earth's islands and continents. In your wardrobes, 
the wools of Saxony, the linens of Ireland, the silks of 
Italy, and the furs of the frozen zones. And crowding 
your chambers, furniture and bijoutry, wrought of woods 
from the forests of Ceylon and Domingo ; and of metals 
from the mines of Potosi and the Ural ; and of gems 



THANKFULNESS. 



271 



from Brazilian caverns and Indian streams ; and of costly 
stuffs from the looms of Manchester and Lyons ; and of 
plumes from the groves of Araby the blest ; and of the 
magnificent marbles of Egypt and Italy. And if, in such 
homes, you can not be thankful, it must be as the sated 
Sybarite, pained with his displaced rose-leaf. Meanwhile, 
in your homes, are better things than these. Those be- 
loved forms that sit by its board. Those gentle voices, 
sweeter to your soul than the voices of angels, that make 
blessed its chambers. Yes, and more. That precious 
Bible that shines there as a heavenly lamp. That 
family altar, at whose side there lifts a new ladder, from 
Bethel to the skies, with its descending seraphim. And 
then, all those unnumbered social and civil and national 
and religious beatitudes which surround that mortal taber- 
nacle, as shekinah-lustres round the tents of the Exodus. 
All these means of grace ! All these hopes of glory ! 

Living here in America — in this nineteenth century — 
free men — free Christians — so that your lot seems the 
veritable realization of the golden dreams of the old 
Hebrew prophets — those gleaming and distant millennial 
glories, that colored the page of Isaiah, and made lus- 
trous the clouds of the Apocalypse ! Verily, you have 
cause for gratitude. Verily, in view of what God has 
done for you, you ought to be thankful ! But passing 
this, I remark, 

Secondly — That for your own sake, for the sake of 
your own souls, you ought to be thankful. We tell you 
again, and again, that this exercise of fault-finding and 
grumbling is altogether unprofitable. If some great 
affliction befalls you — why, give it one grand outburst of 
relieving tears, and have done with it. Bury the bless- 



272 



THANKFULNESS. 



ing God takes from you with befitting rites of lamen- 
tation, but do not embalm the dead thing as a memorial- 
mummy, and keep it, as an everlasting spectre of 
misery, in the midst of your dwelling. This habit of 
mournful sadness destroys, alike, happiness and influence, 
and usefulness and character. I am disposed to believe 
— though naturalists will differ from me — that the owls 
were, originally, as clear-sighted and joyous creatures as 
the eagles. But, getting into a bad habit of living in 
caves, and going abroad only to mourn over the night- 
side of nature, they, by the great law of adaptations, 
have degenerated into the wretched and blind of God's 
winged and plumed creation. And the habit works as 
disastrously in human experience. It blinds the eye, and 
dwarfs the pinions of the soul ; renders the heart a 
nervous and neuralgic thing ; eats out a man's piety ; 
weakens every Christian grace ; and makes the creature 
a torture to himself, and a curse to his neighborhood. 
And this leads me to remark, 

Thirdly — T/iat, as Christia?is, ice ought, for the sake 
of others, to manifest this abiding spirit of joy and 
thanksgiving. I speak now to j)rofessing Christians. 
And, as exemplified in the lives of such, this religion 
of Christ ought to appear the loveliest and most attract- 
ive of all things. But how does it appear as exhibited 
in the life of a sad-faced and sad-hearted professor ? The 
man walks abroad with his sighs, like the wind in a 
cedar-bush; his step, as the grinding of a hearse over 
unbroken gravel-stones ; and the impenitent man looks 
on with a recoil, and says, " Well, if that man is walking 
to glory, it nmst be a hard road to travel !" " If that is 
religion, it is a poor thing, make the best of it !" Sup- 



TEA NKF UL NESS. 



273 



pose an angel should come down from the skies, and 
walk up and down among men, with his brow wrinkled 
with sadness and his eyes dim w r ith tears ! Why, then, 
even if God's fire-car, with its flaming coursers, stood 
all lustrous at your threshold — where is the man among 
you that would mount it gladly, and with a loosened 
rein and a bounding heart, spring exultingly toward a 
heaven, whose very angels seem wretched? And there- 
fore we remark — 

Finally — That for your heavenly Father's sake, you 
ought to cherish and display this spirit of thanksgiving. 
I do not mean merely that he deserves your praises — • 
this I have already insisted on. Nor do I mean merely 
that he commands you to be thankful. Although 
coming, as my text does, as the precept of a Divine law, 
I might say that the man ever grumbling does as ex- 
pressly disobey God as the man ever uttering false- 
witness or blasphemy. But I do mean, in this connection, 
that by this exhibition of sorrowful unthankfulness, you 
positively and powerfully dishonor Jehovah ! A mon- 
arch, whose subjects are always complaining of their lot, 
is set down by the world as a hard and selfish tyrant. 
A father, whose children walk abroad ever in sadness 
and tears, is anathematized by all people as a heartless 
and cruel parent. And so the world judges of your 
eternal Sovereign, and your heavenly Father, when 
you, his professed subjects and children, go murmuring' 
and complaining about the earth, as if Christian life 

"Were but a cloud 
Brooding in nameless sorrow on the soul. 
A sadness — a sick-heartedness — a tearl" 
12* 



274 



TEA NKF ULNESS. 



No — no — no. Shame on us, if, surrounded by such 
blessings, and hastening onward to such revelations of 
glory, we go ever with the bowed head, and the mournful 
footsteps, saying to the world by our pitiful complainings 
— " See how the eternal God is maltreating his loyal 
subjects !" " See how our heavenly Father is torturing 
his children !" 

And now, if you gather into one, all these reasons for 
cherished and expressed gratitude, you will perceive the 
wisdom and excellence of the text's great law, " Be 

THANKFUL !" " Be THANKFUL !" 

And, therefore, as individuals, and as a people, let 
us see if we can not keep this great national festival 
in the true spirit of the requirement. If we will not 
obey the governor, let us at least obey God; and, 
leaving all our dead sorrows in the grave, and all our 
complainings at home, come up with bright eyes and 
happy hearts to God's temple, and with voices of praise, 
wherein is blent no undertone of sadness, sing to our 
heavenly Father some such anthems as this : — 

" Come, thou fount of every blessing, 

Tune my heart to sing thy grace ; 
Streams of mercy never ceasing, 

Call for songs of loudest praise ; 
Teach me some melodious sonnet, 

Sung by naming tongues above, 
Praise the Mount — Oh, fix me on it, 

Mount of Grod's unchanging love. 

" Here I raise my Ebenezer, 

Hither by thy help I'm come ; 
And I hope, by thy good pleasure, 
Safely to arrive at home. 



TEA NKF UL NESS. 



Jesus sought me when a stranger, 
Wandering from the fold of God ; 

He, to rescue me from danger, 
Interposed with precious blood. 

" Oh, to grace how great a debtor 

Daily I'm constrained to bel 
Let that grace, Lord, like a fetter, 

Bind my wandering heart to thee. 
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it ; 

Prone to leave the Clod I love ; 
Here's my heart, Lord, take and seal it, 

Seal it for thy courts above." 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



" The feast of harvest." — Exodus, xxiii. 16. 

We have assembled again in God's house upon, what 
may be called, the great religious festival of the Ameri- 
can year. These "Thanksgivings" of the separate States 
are taking more and more the character of a grand 
national jubilee. Originally puritanical institutions, they 
have become a part of our common and ceremonial law, 
until all the families of the land look for and enjoy them. 

We have selected for this occasion a text, which, to 
the executive proclamation calling us together, adds the 
solemnity of a Divine sanction. It is historic of festivals 
not dissimilar among God's ancient covenant people. 
Perhaps we have been accustomed to regard the Hebrew 
religion as especially wanting in the joyous element ; 
doubting almost the possibility of religious gladness, 
amid its sternly sacrificial rites, and its august doctrinal 
Theism. But, if so, we have erred widely. Under every 
dispensation alike has religion, as set forth by God, been 
essentially joyous. "The ways of icisdom, whether 
trodden by the old patriarchs pitching tents ; or by the 
Levites bearing the Tabernacle ; or by the tribes estab- 
lished in Canaan and going up to the worship of Zion ; 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



277 



or by Christians under the fuller light of the Gospel 
ascending to glory; have been always and altogether 
" icays of pleasantness." 

The pervading spirit of the Hebrew economy was jubi- 
lant. Its ritual solemnity was hopeful and triumphant. 
The later Pharisaism, with its face disfigured, was a mon- 
strous degeneration from the exulting faith of those ear- 
lier and palmier days of old Israel, when the harp and 
the viol, the tabret and cymbal, stringed instruments 
and organs, were their accessories of worship. Over and 
above the solemn joy of the daily temple service, there 
were several great occasions every year, when the whole 
Jewish people kept religious festival by Divine appoint- 
ment. 

The design of these anniversaries is apparent. They 
served as perpetual memorials of grand historic events in 
their national experience ; they counteracted the unsocial 
tendencies of their tribal divisions, and, by bringing the 
males of the people periodically together in their great 
central city, repressed local and sectional jealousies, and 
consolidated different tribes into one composite nation ; 
they moreover afforded the whole people stated seasons 
of recreation, so necessary to the development of man's 
physical and moral nature. 

With such evident purposes of good did God appoint 
them, and the old Jews kept them fittingly. Probably 
the world has^never witnessed the parallel of these He- 
brew anniversaries. At their approach, the whole nation 
woke to holiday: every heart bounded, every eye flashed. 
From valley to mountain-top, the land broke forth into 
singing ; and cottage, and palace, and hamlet, and city, 
with harp and song and festal procession, were joyous , 



278 THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



before God. Jerusalem, then the glory of the whole 
earth, the city of the great King, was thronged with 
exulting thousands. Not only the chiefs and nobles of 
the tribes, but the mighty men of the whole earth, phi- 
losophers, and sages, and conquerors, and kings — prose- 
lytes from farthest lands — came up in their pomp and 
power, to keep exulting festival before God in the grand 
central city of their faith. 

Now, of one of these national holidays we have record 
in the text — " The Feast of Harvest. "This was their 
Pentecost ; so called from a Greek word signifying 
"fifty" — because it occurred on the fiftieth day from the 
feast of unleavened bread. It was, properly, a harvest 
festival, in which the Jew offered thanksgiving unto God 
for the ripened fruits of the earth. 

To understand the peculiar interest the Jew took in 
this holiday, you must remember that the Israelites, after 
their establishment in Canaan, were almost entirely a 
nation of farmers. The peasant and the noble, in their 
respective spheres, were alike husbandmen. While a 
small portion of the tribes on the eastern side of Jordan 
led a purely pastoral life, the great body of the people 
were engaged mainly in the cultivation of the soil. And 
they were encouraged in agriculture, as no other people 
have ever been, by their peculiar civil economy. .By 
Divine direction, not only did every tribe have the own- 
ership of its particular province, but each family in the 
tribe had as well its specified inheritance, which could 
never be wholly alienated. No great landholding aris- 
tocracy could arise among them. The poorest Jew was 
by law a full proprietor of the soil. His homestead was 
a freehold by irrevocable title. If for a time alienated 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



279 



by debt or misfortune, it returned to him again unencum- 
bered at the year of Jubilee. Every husbandman felt, 
therefore, that all improvements in his freehold were for 
the benefit of himself, and his children. And, under this 
encouragement to labor, the whole land of Israel was in 
the highest state of cultivation. Probably, in this re- 
spect, no country on earth ever equaled it. Naturally a 
land of rare productiveness, it was well described as " a 
good land of brooks, of water, of fountains, and depths 
that spring out of the valleys and hills • a land of wheat, 
and barley, and vines, and fig-trees, and pomegranates ; 
a land of oil-olive and honey ; wherein they shoidd eat 
bread loithout scarceness, and should not lack any good 
thing''' 1 — a land, in a word, altogether unrivaled in its exu- 
berant productiveness. And possessed of such a freehold, 
encouraged to iis culture and improvement by such im- 
munities, it is not wonderful that the Land of Promise 
becomes the garden of the world. 

The peculiar productions of all zones were native to its 
widely diversified soil and climate. Grains of all species 
grew richly on the plains ; plantations of olives covered 
its sandy hills; its low clay soils nourished groves of 
stately palms ; its sharp mountain sides were hung with 
vineyards. Even the rocks, in precipitous places, were 
made fertile by artificial embankments ; so that, in the 
autumn time, corn-fields, and vineyards, and orange 
groves, and orchards, and forests, rose in ascending cir- 
cles from valley to hill-top, covering the whole landscape 
with lavish beauty, till the old Canaan seemed fittingly 
a very emblem of heaven. 

Now, we say, that unto such a people, inhabiting such 
a country, this Feast of Harvest was necessarily a grand 



280 THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



festival. Its annual return could not but wake the 
nation to gladness. Fair and befitting were the exulting 
rites of that old holiday, when from every hamlet and 
home, from glens of the vine and olive, and from valleys 
golden with corn, the thousands of Israel went up to 
appear before God in Zion, filling the land, as they 
passed, with those old choral harmonies : " Praise the 
Lord, O Jerusalem ; praise thy God, O Zion. For he hath 
strengthened the bars of thy gates ; he hath blessed thy 
children within thee. He maketh peace in thy borders, 
and filleth thee with the finest of the wheat. He hath 
not dealt so with any nation. Praise ye the Lord. 
Praise God in his sanctuary ; praise him in the firmament 
of his power. Praise him with the sound of the trumpet. 
Praise him with the timbrel and dance. Kings of the 
earth, and all people : princes and' all judges of the 
earth : both young men and maidens, old men and 
children. Let every thing that hath breath praise the 
Lord. Praise ye the Lord." 

Such was the Harvest-feast of God's covenant people. 
And herein have we warrant for such feasts among our- 
selves. Without pressing again the analo'gy between 
this American people and the old Hebrew nation, we 
find in our circumstances this day, precisely the things 
which rendered these festivals personally, and politically, 
and religiously, a necessity in their history. 

We, too, want great national and religious holidays, 
to Iceep in mind great national providences. Our history 
as a people has been as manifestly distinguished as theirs 
by Divine interposals of mercy ; and we, too, should have 
great annual gatherings, to make grateful acknowledg- 
ment of God's wonderful deliverances ; thus setting up 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



281 



in the hearts even of children's children, memorial-pillars 
— our Ebenezers of Divine help unto all generations. 

We need them, moreover, as verily as the Jews, for 
their conservative political influence — to counteract the 
sectional and unsocial tendencies of our great tribal 
divisions. As the old memories of Moses and Joshua, 
and the triumph at the Red Sea, and the mighty victo- 
ries of the Exodus — revived and perpetuated by their 
yearly festivals — bound the several tribes together in 
loving brotherhood ; so would it be with us. And if we 
could have, like them, a grand national Pentecost — some- 
thing like our Fourth of July, as it lay in the thought of 
old John Adams and George Washington — as it ought 
to be, and would be, without its gas and gunpowder — a 
sublime national tribe-gathering ! — reviving strongly in 
the American heart the memories of Plymouth Rock, 
and Jamestown, and Bunker Hill, and Mount Vernon — 
memories of our old deliverances and triumphs — deepen- 
ing, as with the chisel of an Old Mortality, the inscrip- 
tions which the lapse of time and the ruthless storms of 
party and fanaticism are so sadly defacing on our old 
monuments of a common and glorious Past — hanging 
new garlands, woven by loving hands, and fragrant with 
the dew of old memories, upon the tombs of men, that, 
like Israel's champions, led us in our Exodus, and estab- 
lished us in our Canaan. I say, if we could come up nation- 
ally to such Pentecosts, then no living man would ever 
again dare breathe of discord and disunion — for chords, 
tender as our loves and stronger than our lives, woven 
of religion and holy with old memories, as the memorial 
festivals uniting Judah and Ephraim, would bind us to- 
gether and bind us to God! 



2S2 TEE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



Meanwhile we need such pentecostal holidays for 
those personal advantages which they brought to the 
Hebrews. They furnish that harmless relaxation so 
constitutionally necessary to our highest well-being. 
Real pleasure, as well physical as moral, is always the 
true law of life. Even " at God's right hand," " fullness 
of joy" is the proposed end of our being. Not, indeed, 
lawless and frivolous gratifications, but pleasures of that 
serene and celestial quality, which invigorates the body 
and ennobles the soul. And such pleasures demand for 
their exercise seasonable relaxations. 

Now if there is any thing the American people need it 
is recreation. Perhaps we have enough of an enervating 
dissipation. But true pleasure re-creates, and we need 
re-creating. We Avant great, noble, national holidays, 
such as God appointed to the Jews in their annual 
festivals. 

Our physical nature needs them. We do not live out 
half our days, because the bow is ever bent — the sinew 
ever strained — the brain ever scheming. Men that ought 
to be young at sixty, are superannuate at thirty. Boy- 
hood is bald-headed, and middle age hobbles on crutches. 
Our life-chords are broken by over-tension : there is no 
brake upon the car, no escape-valve for the vapor, and the 
physical man is shattered by the very speed of its flight. 

Our moral nature needs them. Human virtues are 
like flowers that thrive best in the sunshine. Plato, "the 
philosophic moralist, encouraged in his disciples moods 
of exuberant gayety, checking their joyous impulses only 
at the approach of some grave formalist ; saying : 
" Silence now, my friends, let us be wise — there is a fool 
coming /" Stupid gravity is not virtue, else the ass and the 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



283 



owl, the most portentously grave of all animals, were our 
models of manhood. True virtue is genial, and joyous; 
walking earth in bright raiment, and with bounding foot- 
steps. And the nervous, restless, unreposing, devouring 
intensity of purpose wherewith our men follow their busi- 
ness, is as disastrous to the nobler moral bloom and 
aroma of the heart, as a roaring hurricane to a garden of 
roses. 

Above all, our religious nature needs them. The true 
joy of the Lord is the Christian's strength. Cheerfulness 
is a very, element of godliness. Religion is not the 
stern heroism of the soul clothed in sackcloth and 
marching to martyrdom. It is rather the perfect har- 
mony of all the soul's faculties moving together in that 
music of joy and love in which the whole man marches 
heavenward. To come to Christ, is not to abide in 
tombs, cutting ourselves with stones, and terrifying with 
our self-torturing cries every passing traveler — but it is 
rather to come abroad from these Gadarene graves, 
having the sorrowful devil cast out of us, that we may 
return to our loving homes, jubilant and exulting. Piety 
is not a poisonous mushroom, growing best in the night, 
but a fragrant rose of Sharon, needing the sunshine. 
True religion asks, and will have, recreations ; if denied 
the pure, it will seek the perverted. The old Puritans 
strove hard to render religion a torment, and, in their 
dread of recreations, having abandoned all true amuse- 
ment to Satan, were forced to seek satanic amusement, 
hunting Quakers as wild beasts, and making bonfires of 
witches. 

The old Jews did this thing better with their joyous 
holidays, when with harp and viol they went up to 



284 THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



Zion. Jehovah was not mistaken in the religious regi- 
men of his children. He knew, and provided for, a great 
want of their natures, when he appointed their festivals. 
The American church sorely needs a like baptism of 
gladness, that shall send her to her Zion with bounding 
feet and shining garments, making manifest to the world 
that the service of God is not a sore bondage, but that 
the ways of pleasantness are her pathways to glory. 
It is right, therefore, on all these grounds, and on others ; 
it is right, it is fitting, it beseems our higher frames 
and moods of true piety, that, on occasions like the pres- 
ent, we should dismiss from our minds all sorrowful emo- 
tions, and " worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness." 

This is our Pentecost — our feast of harvest. And even 
in its lowest aspect, as a grateful acknowledgment of 
God's goodness, in preserving for our use the kindly 
fruits of the earth, it is a fitting occasion of thankfulness. 

We have come fo the close of a year of great plenty ; 
our fields have yielded their increase, and our garners 
groan with supplies for the famine of a world. And for 
this we should keep joyous festival before God. 

W e, indeed, who live in great cities, ofttimes overlook 
this. In considering the evidences of our national pros- 
perity, we ignore the agricultural. Arts, manufactures, 
commerce — in those we rejoice. Is the stock-market buoy- 
ant ? Do the banks discount freely ? Are our empori- 
ums crowded with stuffs and merchantmen ? Is the hum 
of industry loud in our workshops ? Is the canvas of 
commerce white on our waters ? These are the questions 
wherewith we seek evidences of our national prosper- 
ity.- But herein we forget the greater interest whereon 
these things hinge — the interests of agriculture — the sim- 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 285 



pier thrift, and surer, if slower, gains of the husband- 
man. True it is, the princely manufacturer or merchant 
sometimes casts a kindly eye over the cheering records 
of the corn-trade, and says, "Well, breadstuffs are 
cheaper, and the poor man should be thankful." As 
if the fruits of the earth were to the poor man, more 
than the rich, God's noble benefaction. Alas, foolish 
reasoner! Let the labor of the husbandman fail — let 
God shut up the heavens, that they rain not, and parch 
the plow-ground into barrenness, and what becomes of the 
rich man? Can he grind his gold with millstones? or 
leaven his bank-stock into bread ? With all his hoarded 
wealth, will he not starve side by side with the beggar in 
the midst of the famine ? Ah, these ears of ripened corn 
are the true germs of life for the great human household ! 

The wheels of our workshops, the sails of our com- 
merce, the implements of science, the pen of genius, the 
pencil and chisel of artists, the eloquent tongue of the 
orator, the scheming brain of the statesman, - the Equi- 
pages of wealth, the banquetings of pleasure, all — all that 
render earth, in its tides of life, any thing but a great 
sepulchre — move, and have being and power, only be- 
cause the fields yield their fruits to the patient toil 
of the husbandman. We might manage to live with- 
out merchants, without manufacturers, without mariners, 
without orators, without politicians, without poets — per- 
haps we might possibly survive the loss of demagogues 
and opera-singers, and prize-fighters and congressmen. 
To read some of the newspapers, one would think we 
might live without a President ; but sure I am we could 
not live without plowmen ! 

Suspend for a single twelvemonth the world's practical 



286 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



agriculture, and death's shadow is over it. Our harvests 
are our sustenance; and in their prodigal abundance 
should be gathered joyfully. Life for you, and for me, 
and for all of us, — life, with all its energies and aims 
and ambitions, its love and hope and joy, — life in the 
heart, the household, the home ; that grand and glorious 
thing, Life, hath ripened for us in these golden sheaves, 
and gone unto the garner. And our feast of harvest 
should be kept like the Jews, as a grand religious 
holiday. 

It is scarcely possible to overestimate the importance 
of agriculture. It surpasses commerce and manufacture, 
as a cause is superior to its effects — as an inner life is of 
more moment than its various outward functions. We 
talk of the immense commerce of England — when, in 
fact, she pays more annually for fertilizers of her lands 
than the entire gains of her commerce ; and the total 
value of her year's crop, animal and vegetable, was some- 
time* ago reported to Parliament to be three thousand 
millions of dollars. 

Meanwhile, the reflex influences of industrial agricul- 
ture on our physical and social well-being are as well 
incalculable. After all, the finest products of our farm- 
lands are found in our farm-houses. Things better than 
corn and cabbages are grown on plow-ground — bone, 
muscle, sinew, nerve, brain, heart ; these all thrive and 
strengthen by agriculture. The specimens of strong, 
hale, common-sense manhood seen at our annual fairs are 
a finer show than all the fat cattle and sheep and noble 
horses, and the brave array of farm-fruits and imple- 
ments. Agriculture purifies morals, chastens taste, deep- 
ens the religious element, develops the individual man. 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 287 



And it were a giant's stride in human progress if the 
whole multitude of non-producing drones that swarm in 
our market-places (politicians, speculators, fast men, rich 
idlers), were driven into the rural districts, to cultivate 
at the same time cabbages and themselves. 

Then, too, the genius of American agriculture is polit- 
ically democratic. It allows no aristocratic monopoly 
of the soil. The one-man power, or the few-men power, 
gives place here of necessity to the every-man power in 
the proprietorship of small freeholds. 

Most easy were it to show, had we time, how incalcu- 
lable are the benefits of agriculture to all classes ; and to 
make manifest the dependence of our modern civilization, 
social and political, upon the agricultural interest. 

No wonder, then, that the Jew kept his Pentecost ! 
"No wonder that in brave old Scotland men went afield 
with sickle and bagpipe, reaping the ripened corn to the 
sounds of sweet music ! No wonder that the fairest of 
festivals was the sweet old " Harvest home " of merry 
England ! TSTo wonder that, in view of what God has done 
for us, as Lord of the harvest, we, looking forth upon the 
wealth of fruitful fields outside our pent-up cities — that 
grander world, beyond the narrow world of trade, the 
shallow world of fashion, that world of dew, and sun- 
shine, and bursting buds, and bending fruits, where every 
hill breathes a benison, and every valley is odorous with 
blessing — at the close of a year whose wealth of golden 
spoil .might spread luxuriously the boards of famishing 
nations ; no marvel, I say, that we, a blessed people in all 
our borders, should gather in these temples where our 
fathers worshiped, with our offering of first-fruits to the 
God of the harvest. 



288 TEE FEAST OF EAR VEST. 



This, then, is the first and lowest aspect of our annual 
Thanksgiving — a time of praise to God for the, ripened 
f ruits of the earth. But then it has higher aspects. It 
had even to the Jews. When first brought forth from 
Egyptian servitude, they knew little truly of God ; they 
thought of him as of the dead idols of the Nile ; and 
these feasts of harvest taught them to recognize the 
Divine agency in life's common blessings. But, as they 
advanced in intellectual theology, these festivals took a 
wider and loftier range and meaning. The feast of the 
Passover, at first commemorative of the deliverance from 
Egypt, came to be regarded as prophetic of Christ's 
coming sacrifice. And the feast of Pentecost, originally 
a simple expression of thankfulness for harvests, became 
successively a memorial : First, of the giving of the Law 
at Sinai, and Secondly, of the descent of the Holy Ghost 
at Jerusalem. So that, in their later history, this feast 
of harvest was an occasion of thanksgiving, not merely 
for annual physical blessings, but for all their distin- 
guishing mercies, both civil and religious. 

And so should it be with us. Our thanksgiving is 
partly in view of the ripened fruits of the earth ; but 
mainly in view of other and higher blessings. And in 
this regard, as well, it is properly — a feast of harvest. 
In respect of all things, — not merely the natural fruits of 
the earth, but all great human interests, political, intel- 
lectual, religious, — we may be said to live in the world's 
great harvest-time. We have reaped, and are reaping, 
the ripened and ripening fruits of all earth's past gener- 
ations. Consider this a little. 

First : This is true— politically. Philosophically con- 
sidered, the grand end and aim of all civil progress is 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



289 



human freedom — the highest development and culture 
of the individual and free manhood. Monarchy the one- 
man-power, oligarchy the few-men-power, are but the 
successive stages of the growing life, up to the ripened 
product of the true democracy — the all-men-power. To 
this end hath tendered all political progress ; and beyond 
this there is no progress. This is the harvest of earth's 
long political husbandry; and we are reaping it. Till 
the great American development, the world had known 
no true democracy. The old republicans, falsely so 
called, were not forms of self-government, but things 
rudimental and embryonic; the mind's- abortive and 
premature struggles to bring forth freedom. And our 
American nationality is the " first fruits " of true liberty. 
It is, indeed, but the first fruits. In one respect this 
nationality is only a germ— the first sowing of a true 
seed for a great harvest of republics, which we know 
not of as yet — a handful of corn on the mountains, that, in 
its diffusion of enlightened liberty and universal self-gov- 
ernment, shall yet wave like Lebanon in the grand har- 
vest of the world. "The world will be either Cossack 
or Republican," said Napoleon, and we say, not Cossack, 
for the world in God's husbandry, not for tares but for 
wheat. 

Ours is but the first fruits, but then they are ripe 
fruits ! The great human aloe hath shot forth one glo- 
rious spike, and brought forth one blossom ! For centu- 
ries the race made its slow progress from the gnarled 
roots of the elder despotisms. On the transatlantic 
.continents, empires rose, and flourished, and fell ; Rome, 
Greece, Persia, Assyria, Egypt, — in each human nature 
struggled into great forms and developments of life. 
13 



290 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



There were buds, and green leaves, and early blossoms 
amid the mighty branches ; but, alas, the unjipened 
fruit was shaken by convulsions, and fell as the fig-tree 
casteth her untimely figs ! Bat at last, in this western 
world, the fruits of true liberty seem ripening in the 
sunshine. No man can read our past history, and not 
cry out in faith, " this is God's husbandry !" The care- 
ful keeping of this virgin soil for a new product — the 
winnowing, amid wild convulsions, as with fire and 
flame, of the old humanity, for a new seed to scatter on 
this glorious plow-ground — the germination, the strong 
rooting, the slow growth, amid seething rains and whis- 
tling storms of our struggling colonial life. These are 
the manifestations of a grand Divine husbandry ! 

Who questions it longer ? V-erily, it is a story of 
marvels ! That feeble folk, like seed by the wayside, on 
Plymouth Rock, and the peninsula of Jamestown — that 
struggle for existence, as of untimely buds for life, amid 
the chill blasts and rank growths of the wilderness — but, 
as the germs rooted and shot upward, that miraculous 
progress, as the green vine of Nineveh — hamlet after 
hamlet, city after city, State after State, — the stupendous 
growth of a virgin world — rising up in their strength ; 
shooting downward strong roots, and upward great 
branches ; and yet, not according to the old vegetable 
law — each the germ of a separate and independent life — 
but rather like the mighty Indian tree, the lengthening 
branch bending downward to the ground, forming for 
itself new roots, and becoming a new trunk, till the 
whole land is covered with the growth of a single tree x 
with the seeming of a forest — so, all these sovereign 
States, covering a continent, and yet all bound by the 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



291 



common law and life of freedom, into one grand com- 
posite nation ! Verily here is Divine working ! 

Look at America as she stands before yon this day. 
Her agriculture, her arts, her commerce, her happy homes, 
her great cities, her matchless civil franchises, her insti- 
tutions of knowledge and charity, her broad boundaries, 
her vast resources, her magic progress in the inspiration 
of her youthful and exulting life, her present beatitude, 
her boundless and magnificent future, as she stands the 
living embodiment of civil and religious freedom — the 
shooting of the civil life of all generations into one grand 
century-flower of humanity ! Look at all this, I say, 
and then tell me if this seems not a harvest-field in man's 
golden autumn ? And whether your thought be of the 
struggles of old nations to bring forth freedom : or of 
our own historic struggles for colonial life ; tell me, if the 
ripened grain waves not in the fields around us, and our 
thanksgiving this day for civil and national blessings be 
not unto our God — a great feast of harvests f 

Then passing from the political, the same thought is 
true in regard of the intellectual. It is a thought well 
worthy our pondering, on an occasion like this — that toe 
live in the harvest-time of mind and thought / Carefully 
considered, the development of the " mental," follows the 
law of material development. " First, the blade, then the 
ear, after that the full corn in the ear!" Genius is first 
poetical ; then practical. First, the flaunting blossom ; 
then the substantial fruit. From the beginning, man's 
law of intellectual progress has been, from the abstract 
to the practical— from ideas to facts. The practical, 
being the fruit of the imaginative, as the ripened corn is 
the fruit of the plant's inner life. And as the plant-germ 



292 THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



must experience its successive vegetable transformations 
before it ripens into fruit, so it would seem necessary for 
every great thought to pass through a series of embry- 
onic changes, before it can attain to a perfect and practi- 
cal development. And in this respect we seem to live 
in man's intellectual harvest-time. The generations 
agone have been times of preparation — the seasons of 
thought-germ, and thought-blossom, rather than of 
thought-fruit. 

We can not enlarge here, but must content ourselves 
with a few illustrations of the truth — that in our time 
the old speculative and sentimental "Ideas" have be- 
come great practical "Facts." 

The old Astrology, which, looking upon the stars as 
prophetic hieroglyphics, and reading therein the fate of 
men and empires, burst into radiant but poisonous 
blossoms of superstition on the plains of Assyria and 
beneath the blue Egyptian heavens, hath ripened into a 
grand practical science, till our Astronomy elevated the 
race into the regions of most useful philosophy and lofti- 
est knowledge of God. 

The splendid yet disastrous dreams of the old Alche- 
my, have showered their false blooms and ripened into a 
grand science, until the wild visions of the philosopher's 
stone, the universal solvent, the universal medicine, are 
more than realized in the immeasurable benefits unto 
agriculture and manufactures and the arts of true practi- 
cal Chemistry. 

The old Magnetism, whose highest aim was to furnish 
playthings for children, was the toy-blossom which has 
ripened now into substantial fruit ; and, in the mariner 
compass, furnished a key to the gates of ocean, and a 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 293 



guide through the mighty paths of the sea, and given 
unto man the islands and continents of a world. 

The idle fancy of the old Hollander, carving rude let- 
ters in beech bark, for sport, was the thought-germ, whose 
perfected fruit is the Printing Press — that gigantic 
power on the earth, before which, the old despotisms 
and superstitions of the world are passing away as mists 
from a sunburst — whose earthly results are all the won- 
ders of progressive civilization, and whose heavenly 
utterances are the leaves of the Tree of Life for the 
healing of the nations. 

Steam — that fantastic shape that played aerial and 
useless before the eyes of old dreamers — hath as- 
sumed a personality of glory and power. And the 
thought-germ, that seemed a vanishing vapor, is to-day 
the mightiest reality of life — man's Titanic servant every- 
where ; chained in the dark caverns of the earth ; fet- 
tered to the wheels of great machinery ; harnessed on the 
thoroughfares of traffic ; rushing through the valleys ; 
leaping on the mountains ; marching on the seas — God's 
own winged wind unto man's chariot, bearing him over 
all the brute forces and forms of nature, in imperial do- 
minion conquering and to conquer ! 

Then, latest and most wonderful of all — the Tele- 
graph ! — thought's most glorious harvest ! The elec- 
tric element on which it depends had slept latent for 
centuries in all material forms, too minute for detection, 
too subtile for analysis. Then, all unsubstantial and shape- 
less, it knocked for admission into man's palaces of fancy, 
and the old Philistines of philosophy made sport with 
the Samson — Muschenbroek's Leyden-jar — Franklin's 
wandering kite — those were the thought-germs of a 



291 THE FEAST OF EAR VEST. 



glorious harvest. The power that at the close of the last 
century, by means of a pith-ball electronometer, carried 
signals for amusement to an adjoining room, now flashes 
in the real business of life, through more than a hundred 
thousand miles of Electric Telegraph. Verily the em- 
bryonic germ hath ripened into fruit ! 

And the past year has witnessed its most marvelous 
development. We are indeed told that the Atlantic 
Telegraph is a failure ; that our rejoicings over it were 
childish ; that all this clamorous congratulation was the 
cock-crowing before morning, that the less we say about 
that cable the better, — till it speaks for itself. But we 
answer — It has spoken for itself! It has demonstrated 
the grand possibility. And to Anglo-Saxon thought 
a great possibility is a great certainty. And now the 
splendid dream that seemed fancy, hath become a great 
fact. Henceforth, we reckon as verities, all possible 
results of this matchless achievement. I have no limits 
to enumerate them — they have perhaps been already 
sufficiently glorified in the American pulpit. The effects 
upon the breadth of commerce, and the steadfastness of 
trade ; upon the uniformity of stock markets, and prices 
current, at the Bourse, on the Royal Exchange, in Third 
Street, and Wall Street ; upon the perfecting of an inter- 
national police, upon politics, and literature, and news, 
* and the fashions ; in a word — upon all the great physi- 
cal interests of life, have been eloquently expounded. 
But, great as these are, they are not the greatest. They 
are indeed only the radiant petals of a seed-infolding 
flower, whose ripened fruit is in the moral. 

A great transformation in the conditions of national 
life — a breaking down of the barriers of national preju- 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



295 



dice — a virtual union of all races by the ties of amity 
and common interest — these, and such as these, are to 
be the nobler results of this achievement ! These magic 
wires, stretching over all lands, through all waters, are 
eartJCs strong hearth-cords ! — making the dead planet a 
living creature, sensitive, through every fibre of its 
gigantic frame, to a rude touch anywhere — along whose 
quivering nerves and throbbing pulses, the great human 
Heart shall beat, and the great human Mind think ! 
And were our congratulations, over an event like this, 
ill-timed and extravagant ? What though the lamps 
of illumination have burnt out ; and the huckstered stock 
is at a discount ; and the " time and space " which our 
orators and poets so eloquently " annihilated," yet stub- 
bornly remain; and the ocean, which for a short hour 
seemed man's great whispering gallery, rolls again sul- 
lenly voiceless above its hidden secrets — nevertheless 
we say, it did become the world to exult over this new 
and magnificent development — this ripening into fruit of 
one of Goal's great thought-flowers ! — this progress from 
a weak germ into waving harvest, of one of those stu- 
pendous purposes whereby God, " dividing the water- 
courses for a way for his lightnings," is lifting the race 
from the ancient thraldom into his own glorious liberty, 
and setting up, on the ruins of old empires, the throne of 
his Son in triumph and forever ! 

Now we might multiply our illustrations indefinitely, 
but our limits forbid. The thought is — That, in the 
historic progress of the race, every great philosophic dis- 
covery passes slowly, like the germination and growth 
of a plant, from the embryonic of speculative or senti- 
mental thought, to the practical and useful of life's great 



296 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



realities. And that in this regard, it is onr high privi- 
lege to live in the harvest-time. In past generations, 
intellect has been busy in a rudimental husbandry — 
felling the great forests ; draining the low marshes ; sub- 
duing the rugged soil ; scattering the seed ; and watch- 
ing and waiting for the increase. The old philosophy ; the 
old civilization ; the old polities, civil and ecclesiastical ; 
the old chivalry ; the old poetry — these were the thought- 
germs, the thought-leaves, the thought-blossoms, which 
have ripened, and are ripening around us into God's 
glorious fruit ! 

We live in earth's prodigal and luxuriant autumn —in 
times when marvelous things are the rule, and mean 
things the exception — in an economy of prodigies, each 
one a seeming miracle to men's earlier comprehension, 
and yet all, only the ripened development of their own 
thought-germs. And if the law of all husbandry be "to 
sow in tears and reap in joy " — then our thanksgiving, 
that we live in these eventful times, should be unto God, 
this day, a great feast of harvest ! 

Passing this, we observe once more and finally — 
That this same law of development, we have been 
tracing through the Political and Intellectual, will be 
found to rule in the Spiritual — and in this regard 
should we mainly rejoice that we live in life's harvest- 
time. 

From the first rude altar at the gate of Paradise to 
the magnificent Temple in Jerusalem, the religious de- 
velopment under the old dispensation was — like vege- 
table life — from the shooting germ to the splendid 
blossom. But even then it was but a blossom ! That 
Levitical economy, even in its perfection, was only pre- 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



297 



paratory to the evangelical, — a cumbrous scaffolding to 
an inner spiritual building ! — types and shadows, that 
found antitype and substance in Christ the Redeemer ! 
Nor even with the coming of Christ did the religious 
progress end. Hope, rather than fruition, was the law 
even of apostolic service. From the hour of Christ's 
ascension to heaven, the future — the magnificent future ; 
the unimagined, mysterious, transcendant, latter-day 
glory — was that for which faithful men waited and 
labored and prayed. These men lived in the GospeVs 
great seed time. 

True, indeed, there was even from the first a perpetual 
gathering of scattered bundles on the earth for the 
heavenly garner. But the great harvest of the race 
delayed its coming. And yet that harvest must come, 
yea, alike from prophecy and the signs of the times, we 
judge that even now it is ripening around us. 

]STo thoughtful man can have failed to perceive, as a 
peculiarity of this generation, a grand awakening of the 
human mind unto what we may call the Spiritual. 
True, indeed, the set thitherward of the popular thought 
seems ofttimes in false directions. Our spiritualized 
philosophy is aeronautical, losing itself in the clouds, — 
borne heavenward by unsavory and inflammable gases. 
Our poetry, under the spiritual afflatus, has become 
mystically spasmodic — uttering transcendental nothings, 
very wild and very icatery. Even our popular Spiritual- 
ism, as a religion, sits at the feet of tipping, rapping, 
trans-speaking, psychologized imposture ; its man- 
prophets clairvoyant and celestial, with a very weak and 
unwholesome inspiration, — its woman-prophets strong- 
minded and seraphic, as witches in Endor. 

13* 



293 



TEE FEAST OF EAR YE ST. 



And yet, all these things, ludicrous and lamentable as 
they are, self-considered, nevertheless, as indications of 
the movement of the popular mind, are, to a thoughtful 
man, full of moment. They are like refuse-wood on the 
waters, indicating the great tide-currents of thought to- 
ward a higher spirituality, — like sere leaves, falling in 
a forest, signifying with their sad voices that the au- 
tumn-time is near, with its grand gathering of harvest. 

Nor are these signs false. For, in the midst of these 
manifestations, the true Church of God hath been wonder- 
fully roused to a new life of spirituality ! Let us look 
as suspiciously as we will upon the great revival of the 
present year ; and make what abatements we may, in 
view of false elements and accessories. Nevertheless, no 
man can fail to perceive a movement, unique and uni- 
versal in the Church, of a power that seems like a new 
advent of the Comforter. Nor will the true student of 
history be likely to question its permanency. 

Since Christ came, there have been but three revival 
seasons comparable with the present ; the old Pen- 
tecost, in the first century, the Reformation in the 
sixteenth, and the great Awakening in the eighteenth ; 
and each of these was an epoch of change in the 
Church, not only general, but permanent. Each lifted 
the Church to, and left her in, a higher spiritual con- 
dition. 

Now, if this be the law of the present, then we seem 
to be drawing nigh to the great millennial day-spring. 
Hitherto we have enjoyed partial and periodic revi- 
vals; but to-day the movement seems world-wide. The 
old religious forces have been Divinely quickened. 
Through the old channels Divine grace is flowing 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 299 



as a spring-time flood, till the banks are overflowed 
with the waters of salvation; and sectarianism, that 
went forth of old to dig separate rills for its own 
feeble vine, sits now exulting in the great wave of 
salvation that waters into strength the whole glorious 
vineyard. 

A new law of Christian progress has come. The 
silent power of this revival, its signal permanency, its 
seemingly universality ; the desire, the hope, the fixed 
purpose, under God, that it shall remain permanent 
and universal; all these give it the seeming of the 
dawn of the world's great harvest. 

Let a man walk through the husbandry of. a land, 
and find, here and there, a small field, wherein are a 
few ripened and scattered ears, and he regards them 
as the premature fruits of a shallow soil, or an untem- 
pered sun, and reads therein no sure sign of the golden 
autumn. But if, on the contrary, as he walks abroad, 
he finds the whole land roused by a common impulse 
— if every hamlet is noisy with men who sharpen the 
sickle and drive the wain afield — if all the sunny 
mountain slopes are vocal with the song of the grape- 
gatherers, and the* mower's scythe gleams in every val- 
ley, and reapers bind the yellow sheaves in all the great 
corn-fields — then he feels sure that no inconsiderable 
and untimely growth is being gathered, but that truly 
the latter rains have fallen, and autumnal suns have 
warmed the broad earth, and that this song of girded 
men is the great hymn of harvest.* 

And just so clo the signs of the present times — this 



* Preached in 1858. 



300 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



universal expectancy — this universal preparation — 
this universal labor — this unwonted activity of earnest 
men, in every village and hamlet in the land to gather 
fruit nnto salvation — this mingling together in the 
toil, of all Christian sects in harmonious brotherhood 
— this opening of new fields of labor; new channels 
of labor; new agencies of labor — this expectation, in 
all hearts ; sometimes indeed faint ; sometimes strong 
and exultant; yet felt everywhere, that this Revival- 
state is to become the permanent condition of the 
Church's life — these arguments, and ' purposes, and 
prayers, and humble, yet God-relying and steadfast 
determinations, that Christianity shall not sink again 
from this quickened vitality to the old frames of 
formal and dead Pharisaism — all these things, I say, 
seem, must seem, the results of no local and accidental 
causes, but the direct inspiration of the Divine Spirit, 
pouring a new life through the old ecclesiastical 
being — quickening the steady, onward, majestic march 
of God's redeemed people, to gather into one great 
garner the harvests of the world ! 

In respects, then, like these, political, intellectual, reli- 
gious, we live in times of unexampled blessedness. We 
have come up to Zion from hills purple with vintage, and 
valleys golden with corn, in the rapturous harvest-home 
of the mortal! And it becomes us to keep festival be- 
fore God as the old Jew kept his Pentecost. As men, as 
patriots, as philanthropists, as Christians, our cup of joy 
mantles brightly. What more could God have done for 
us that he hath not done ? What people can be happy 
before God, if we are not happy ? The spirit of un- 
tharikf illness, that, in an hour like this, presents itself 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 301 



before the Lord, must have come from wandering up and 
down in the earth, like Job's Satan. It is the monstrous 
demon of discontent that drove the poor Gadarene from 
the fair face of nature, and the loving voices of his home, 
to cut his flesh with stones, and abide in the tombs ; and 
it ought to be cast out into the wandering swine and 
the roaring waters. 

Oh, how happy we ought to be before the Lord to- 
day ! The man who complains now, must be that very 
Goliath of unrest, whose discontent feeds upon God's 
mercies — whose eyes are like the owls', pained only by 
life's brightness — and who grumbles the most grandly, 
just and only because he hath nothing to (/rumble at ! 

We do not say that there may not be troubled hearts 
here. Oh, no indeed ! For we know too well how life's 
roses have thorns, and life's music its undertones ! We 
know how some of you have come up to God's house from 
homes made sad by bereavements. Your stream in the 
desert hath been embittered like Marah ! Your garden 
of life darkened like Gethsemane! And yet we know as 
well, that even unto you, God hath not forgotten to be 
gracious. There was a sweetening branch by the desert 
spring; and a strengthening angel in the garden's 
shadow ! And the pulses of your stricken hearts bound 
in grateful love unto your sustaining and comforting 
Redeemer ! 

Sure I am, there should be no thankless hearts to-day 
in the assembly of God's people. Unto no creatures out 
of heaven, hath there ever been accorded a lot like our 
lot. Living here, in this nineteenth century, free men, 
free Christians — we seem to stand on the very mount of 
God, flung up in the waste of ages, for the enthronement 



302 



TEE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



of his great man-child ! We look backward, and lo ! all 
the past has been working together for our national and 
individual beatitude. 

Patriarchs, prophets, bards, sages, mighty men, con- 
querors, have all been our servants. Generation after 
generation, that have lived and died — great empires, that 
have risen and nourished, and trod imperial paths, and 
passed away forever, seem to rise from their old death- 
dust, and march in vision before us, laying down all 
their accumulated thoughts, and arts, and honors — all 
the trophies of their mighty triumphs in homage at our 
feet ! We look forward, and the eye is dazzled with the 
vision of the glory about to be accorded to God's kingly 
creature, Man ! when standing upon this redeemed 
world, he shall assert his birthright — a child of God 
here ! an heir of God forever ! 

Verily, we have cause for thanksgiving. " The Lord 
hath done great things for as, whereof we are glad." 

Let us give, then, free course to our grateful emotions ! 
Thankful for the present, trustful for the future ; let us 
rejoice before God " with the joy of harvest." As the 
old Hebrew husbandman came with his offering of first- 
fruits, forgetting, in his present moods of joy, all past 
disquietudes — the weary, toil of the seed-time, and watch- 
ing time — the wild storm; the seething rain; the chill- 
ing blight ; the devouring insect — forgetting these, or 
remembering them only to deepen his sense of that 
Divine goodness which, in spite of theni all, had brought 
the full corn to the earing. So let us, forgetful of all 
past trials and disquietudes — all shadows that darkened 
our sunshine — all storms that troubled our waters — 
all financial reverses — all political and partisan jealousies 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 303 



— all ecclesiastical and sectarian strife — forgetting all 
these, or remembering them only as new reasons for 
present thankfulness — turning from all shadows of old 
griefs ; from all valleys of sadness, if thitherward have 
wandered our pilgrim feet ; and coming up, this morn- 
ing, to the serene mountain-top, where the sun shines, 
and the dews of heaven lie fair and sweet ; only mindful 
of, and thankful for, the present hours of joy ! Like the 
mariner, that, wuth his bark anchored for a brief day, goes 
ashore to his children's cottage on the hills ! Like the 
warrior, that, released for an hour from the stern bivouac 
and battle, unbraces his cumbrous mail and pitches his 
tent with the husbandman ! — thus standing together on 
earth's high places, let us be strong and rejoice in the 
loving kindness of God ! And when here in our chosen 
sanctuary, as the Jew on Mount Zion, we have paid our 
solemn vows, and rendered our first fruits of love to God 
in a living consecration — then, as that same Jew returned 
to his distant heritage, filling the soft airs of Palestine 
with glad songs, and waking the echoes of its landscapes 
with bounding: feet ; so let us get us again to our homes — 
these earthly dwellings as truly God's gift as those pos- 
sessions in Canaan — these homes hallowed by Divine 
goodness ; by the voices, the ministries, the gentle looks 
of love; by memorials, tenderly sad it may be, but cher- 
ished and heavenly, of the beloved dead — to these fire- 
sides where children play ; these boards where kinsfolk 
gather; driving out every reptile of discontent, every 
bird of evil omen from our bowers of peace ; hanging the 
heavenly lamp of Hope from our lowly lintel — our hearts, 
like the lark that, having first soared to the sky to war- 
ble its praise around the portals of the temple of heaven, 



304 



THE FEAST OF HARVEST. 



sinks again, softly and gladly, to its nest of love in the 
dewy grass ! So let us go down from our Zion, as the 
Jew from the mount of God to his own humbler dwell- 
ing, in glens of vine and olive, or valleys golden with 
corn — peaceful, joyous, thankful for the present • and for 
the future, full of faith, of hope ; looking forward to that 
hour — to some of us so near — when, in the great Autumn 
of Time, gathered by angel-reapers, borne by God's flam- 
ing chariot to such a harvest-home as no husbandman 
ever knew ! we shall take our joyous way up through 
these lustrous heavens, along yon starry paths, through 
those gates of pearl, through those golden streets, 
through those portals of the many mansions — that there 
— in that Eternal Temple ; in those blissful homes where 
this mortal love puts on immortality — there, with the 
beloved dead ; with the countless multitude bearing 
palms and white robes ; with angel and archangel before 
the throne ; we may keep unto God — 



A Great Feast of Harvest. 



THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 



l! Run, speak to this young man.' 11 — Zechariah, ii. 4. 

Zechakiah is, of all the prophets, most remarkable for 
the simple, practical purpose with which he employs the 
grandest prophetic symbols. The supernatural ma- 
chinery of his book is magnificent, but its movement is 
all for manifest earthly uses. The red horses, the four 
chariots, the four horns, the stone with seven eyes, the 
flying roll, the mighty angels among the myrtle-trees ; 
all these marvelous things, as directly as the four carpen- 
ters with their implements of homely toil, have a work 
to do for man on the earth ; and thus the grandeur of 
his imagery gives impressiveness to the prophet's sim- 
plest language. 

Thus it is with the text. It is the speech of one angel 
to another angel in regard of a young man who, in sym- 
bolic action significant of Israel's redemption and en- 
largement, was going forth with a measuring line to take 
the length and breadth of Jerusalem. With its original 
application we are not at present concerned. We refer 
to its connections only to give impressiveness to the 
exhortation. 

It was an angel that uttered it— probably the Jehovah- 
angel. Certainly it was a heavenly voice, in all solemn, 



306 THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 



loving, earnest exhortation, that cried unto another angel, 
" Hun, speak to this young man." 

Using this text as simply an accommodation, it may 
have a twofold direction : — 

First, to myself, as preaching to young men. 

Secondly, to you, as young men and Christians. 

First : As addressed to myself, it is an earnest exhor- 
tation unto the Christian minister to labor especially loith 
young men. 

On this point I shall not enlarge. Of the vast import- 
ance of the conversion of young men, there is no possible 
overestimate. It is important every way. 

1st. Because, in ?nost cases, if not converted while 
they are young, they will never be converted. Divine 
grace, in its very sovereignty, operates according to the 
laws of our moral and intellectual nature. And as, phi- 
losophically considered, religion demands in its reception 
an open heart, a believing mind, a tender conscience and 
glowing affection — and as these are the prerogatives of 
youth — so the whole history of the Church proves that 
youth is the most favorable period for religious impres- 
sion; and that, following the law of the dispensation of 
the Spirit, our most earnest efforts should be for the con- 
version of the young. 

Meanwhile this is important — 

2dly. Because of the peculiar power of young men 
to accomplish great things for God and their genera- 
tion. 

Young men are hopeful ; young men are brave ; young 
men are fertile in invention : and thus young men are 
strong in all qualities that secure earthly success. Han- 
nibal at the age of twenty-five led to victory the great 



THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 307 



armies of Carthage. Alexander had conquered the world 
and died at the age of thirty-eight. Charlemagne at the 
age of thirty had made himself master of the whole 
French and German empires. Napoleon led his brilliant 
Italian campaign at twenty-seven, and at thirty-three 
was emperor of France. William Pitt at twenty-two 
was Chancellor of the Exchequer. Edmund Burke at, 
twenty-five was First Lord of the Treasury. Byron at 
twenty-three was the first poet of the time and the idol 
of all England. 

And, with occasional exceptions, such is the great law. 
Certainly the foundations of all true greatness must be 
laid in early life. The energy of youth is the world's 
mightiest influence ; and that influence is especially need- 
ful in the Church. Early religion renders the Christian 
character alike beautiful and powerful; quickening all 
spiritual affections, and rendering permanent all gracious 
habits. And therefore has God ever been pleased to 
pour his Spirit upon the young, and to assign to young 
men, in all dispensations of the Church, most responsible 
stations and important ministries. 

For these reasons, the text's first application may be to 
myself. 

" Run, speak to these young men" The exhortation 
is to directness and earnestness. Do not waste this 
precious Sabbath evening in philosophic discourse and 
idle declamation. Speak as if sent by this Jehovah- 
angel — solemnly, as if for eternity and in the presence 
of God. And so I would speak to you. You are associ- 
ated for the grandest of all possible objects. Laboring 
for the moral and religious well-being of young men, 
you are at once laying the foundations of your State 



308 THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 



in the immovable principles of virtue, and advancing 
the Gospel to its consummation in the conquest of the 
world. 

A glorious work is before you ; there fore do it glori- 
ously. Let all your powers, in the noblest sense of the 
solemn word, be devoted, consecrated unto God. Aim 
religiously as high as the world's young men aim car- 
nally. Oh, if Napoleon and Byron had been young 
Christians, with their intensely earnest life consecrated 
to Jehovah, and their ambition sanctified into zeal for 
Christ Jesus; then what harmonies like the song of 
angels had been heard on the earth ; and what conquests 
of kingdoms and continents for Immanuel had been 
recorded in heaven ! And such should be your aim and 
ambition. Let the blazon on your banner be, " Ex- 
celsior " — " Excelsior " — higher, higher ! No matter how 
high ; even if its flashing folds hide the stars. To save 
immortal souls ; to bless a ruined world ; to glorify 
Jehovah : such is your glorious work. And therefore, as 
unto a ministry nobler than a king's or a conqueror's, it 
was fittingly a solemn voice out of heaven — the voice of 
one angel crying unto another angel — which the prophet 
heard and which the preacher would obey: "Hun!' 
.run, speak to these young men /" 

But I have already intimated that this application of 
the text is only introductory to another we would now 
more at length attempt. 

Let us then consider it — 

Secondly : As an exhortation addressed directly to 
you, as a Young Men's Christian Association, and indi- 
cating one of your most important duties — "Hun, speak 
to this young man /" 



TEE YOUEG MAE'S MISSIOE. 309 



These words set forth : The means, objects, and man- 
ner of a great Christian duty. 

1 st. You have here the means. " Speak to the young 
man." Use that grand power of articulate utterance. 
Jt is assumed here that you will- do good in other ways 
and in all ways — nevertheless your most efficient power 
over the young men with whom you labor will be this 
power of speech. Perhaps you have not considered this 
point sufficiently. Articulate utterance is almost man's 
finest gift. Justly has it been termed " that which pre- 
eminently distinguishes man from all other creatures; 
the instincts of lower animals have a closer resemblance 
to human reason than their inarticulate sounds have to 
human lans;ua<?e." Language is that without which 
reason were but a dead power. It is not the mind but 
the tongue that persuades most directly unto good or 
evil. Language is reason, not shut up in secret cham- 
bers, but walking forth with tremendous energy amid 
the vital interests of the race. 

Consider for a moment the wonderful title of the 
Divine Son — " The Word ! " And so the relation be- 
tween the absolute and revealed Godhead is just that 
between thought in the mind and the word that ex- 
presses it. And as " no man knoweth the Father save 
he to whom the Son shall reveal him," so no man can 
know the reason save by the revelation of speech. Verily 
speech is a glorious gift. It makes dead thoughts quick 
and powerful ; they rise up ; they come forth as from a 
sepulchre ; they look upon us with earnest eyes ; they 
breathe over us their weird and wondrous magnetism ; 
they rouse us as visiting angels in glory and strength ! 
The man you address becomes for the time, as it were, a 



310 THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 

part of you ; your spirit is wedded to his spirit ; your 
thoughts abide in his immortal chambers of imagery, 
pervading, controlling, either for good or for evil, his 
very being. 

And therefore it is that God has given his Gospel to 
be proclaimed, not so much by written as by spoken lan- 
guage; and thus your noblest efforts as a Christian 
association must be made by speech. " Run, speak to 
this young man." This is your first and most important 
work. Your very title implies this — " An Association " 
— an organization depending on and calling into play 
the finest social qualities of your nature. Its design is to 
bring all the young men you meet under that mightiest 
of all moral influences, the power of direct religious 
conversation. You have hardly begun your Christian 
work when you have considered their wants and opened 
reading-rooms and lecture-rooms, and felt for them, and 
prayed for them ; you must speak to them. 

As we shall see more fully presently, your especial 
mission is unto the beloved and imperiled youth in the 
midst of us. Many young men come yearly to our great 
cities with pure morals and fair prospects ; yet released 
from their accustomed social restraints ; surrounded by 
no domestic influences ; compelled in their various 
spheres of business into companionship with all classes 
of men ; perhaps in room or at board, brought into com- 
panionship with evil men, they thus, by a very law of 
their nature, become benumbed in their moral sensibilities, 
degraded in their tastes, deadened in all their religious 
sentiments and affections. At first, it may be, they ap- 
pear in some honored sanctuary on the Sabbath, but no 
one speaks to them ; they appear in another, and still no 



THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 311 



one speaks to them. They remember the kind greetings 
and social Christian life of the church they left at home ; 
and then sick at heart and discouraged, desert the house 
of God. Their Sabbath-days become profitless or worse. 
The infidel lecture, the spiritual circle, the gambling 
house, the theatre, allure them. Presently you find them 
in all places of evil concourse, and then in a prison cell, 
or in a drunkard's grave. 

Now to preserve or rescue such young men from the 
perils of this destructive social intercourse is a great, 
indeed, the greatest work of this Christian Association, 
and it is to be done thoroughly and efficiently only by this 
power of association and conversation. " By running 
and speaking to them." This is your means — speech; 
human speech ; the immeasurable grace and power of 
appropriate language. These young men are with you, 
before you, all around you. " Hun, speak to them y" 
" speak to them." 

And this leads me more carefully and at length to 
consider — 

2dly. The objects of your labor. 

As we have already said, they are young men in 
general. But the language of the text, you will observe, 
is exceedingly particular. " Hun, speak to this young 
man.'''' And enlarging on this thought, let me direct 
your attention to some distinct classes of young men with 
whom you, as an Association, are called earnestly to 
labor. 

1. And partly repeating what I have just said, let me 
mention in general that whole class of young men icho 
have just come a?nong you. The simple fact that they 
are strangers recommends them to your warmest sympa- 



312 THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 



thies. In most cases fresh from the shelter of a father's 
house and the watch of a mother's love, with their hearts, 
like a bursting flower, open to all surrounding influences, 
they are peculiarly exposed to the arts of the destroyer. 
And with such young men you should begin instantly to 
labor. Gather around them at once a strong Christian 
influence. No longer does a father's prayer strengthen 
them in the morning to brave the day's temptations ; no 
longer do mother and sister watch to welcome them from 
their labor as day declines ; and God has called you to 
fling a brother's shield of proof between those open 
hearts and the fiery arrows of the enemy — to speak to 
these young men, gently, earnestly, lovingly. Become 
acquainted with them. Invite them to your Association ; 
its reading-room ; its lectures ; its evening assemblies. 
Take them with you to some circle of refined social life. 
And above all, lead them to your place of prayer in the 
sanctuary. Do it earnestly ; do it instantly. "Hun ! 
run, speak to them /" 

Do not wait for a future time and a more convenient 
season. Already the tempter is laying snares for his 
victims. The wine-cup, the card-table, the theatre ; these 
things and worse are around them. Alas ! alas, for the 
power wherewith sin allures the unwary. At first the 
young heart shrinks from sin as from degradation and 
defilement. To break deliberately a great law of God 
seems as terrible. as to rush into destruction amid the 
awful forces of nature — to brave a volcano or a cataract ! 
But alike in the moral and the physical, familiarity with' 
the danger weakens the dread. 

Years ago a young civil engineer surveying a great 
national road, came upon the Niagara River some miles 



THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 313 
* 

below the cataract. Carefully he approached the pre- 
cipitous bank and looked over ; and as he saw, hundreds 
of feet below, the wild torrent, rushing and roaring 
through the mi'ghty chasm, dashing its breakers twenty 
feet high against its adamantine barriers, he recoiled 
disheartened, affrighted. Here seemed a physical ordi- 
nance of Heaven, that he could not — dare not pass. But 
as he considered he grew bolder. He might cross it ; 
he would cross it. Presently you find him pledging 
himself to the company concerned in the road that, on 
certain conditions, he would at the expiration of a twelve- 
month drive a harnessed horse right over the abyss. 
The conditions were agreed to. Then he approached the 
precipice. With a child's kite he bore a small cord to 
the far side ; with that a stronger cord was carried over; 
then a rope ; then a great cable ; and then granite piers 
were raised, supporting iron cables, whereon to lay tim- 
bers. 

The twelvemonth passed ; and though the work was 
unfinished, yet the man's fears were gone. He was 
bound to keep his promise. A single row of planks lay 
along the half appointed wires, without guard or balus- 
trade. He appeared with his harnessed horse on the 
brink, and though the creature trembled in every limb, 
and the planks shook at the tread, and the frail road- 
way swayed in the strong wind, yet with an iron will 
and hand the fearless driver forced it on, and over that 
terrible path. And to-day, behold ! how the immense 
commerce of two nations, and the wealth and fashion of 
all lands, rush thoughtlessly, fearlessly over that grand 
barrier of nature, filling all the air with the hum of 
industry, and the joyous songs of pleasure. 
14 



314 THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 
* 

And not unlike this is the moral experience of the 
young in the progress of evil. To-day, fresh from the 
influences of a Christian home, yonder youth recoils from 
an open violation of a Divine law as from certain de- 
struction. Sabbath-breaking, intemperance, gambling, 
profaneness, impurity ; these forms of evil lie at his feet, 
as deep, broad caverns, through which the flood of 
God's consuming indignation rolls terribly. But alas ! 
familiarity with a danger beguiles it of its terrors. To- 
night that youth may be gazing with strange fascination 
on the wild torrent. To-morrow a silken thread of 
desire may span the abyss ; and then with the whole 
noisy and profane crowd he may be lashing his passions 
over it in mad career ! And surely with one so fearfully 
imperiled you have no time to waste. Be instant, there- 
fore, with every young stranger who appears among you. 
Obey the text literally. " Hun ! run ! run ! speak to 
these young men /" 

Here your work should begin. Yet it should not end 
here. You are associated not only that you may preserve 
the virtuous, but that you may reclaim the vicious. 
Descending therefore more particularly to the objects of 
your labor, I mention — 

2. Tlie young man beginning to associate with evil 
companions. 

The town is full of such. No sooner does a youth 
appear among you than he is like an inexperienced insect 
moving amid the invisible meshes of a destroyer. The 
friendships that chance, or promiscuous boarding-houses, 
or even business circles, throw in his way, are oftenest 
evil. There is the pitiful idler, who would allure him 
from diligent labor. The fashionable young man, teach- 



THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 315 

ing him to waste money on finery. The spendthrift, 
encouraging him to live beyond his means — thus compel- 
ling him to resort to false entries and robbery. The 
dishonest employer, constraining him to violate his con- 
science in the miserable tricks of worldly competition. 
The openly profane and impure man, leading him to 
darker dens of intemperance and infamy. There, in 
short, is the whole fearful legion of "corrupters of 
youth" whose delight is, by the infernal magnetism of 
ruin, to draw the young heart into vice. Alas ! alas ! 
how thickly cluster these fiends around the paths of the 
unwary ! How soon the infection takes, and virtue melts 
in the chemistries of iniquity ! And with young men 
beginning to yield to the evil, is your especial ministry. 
Go, speak to them. Tell them the history of iniquity in 
these cities. Point them to the wrecks of character 
which whiten all the shores x>f this mighty stream of 
life. Tell them of a father's prayer ; a mother's love. 
" Speak to them." Hun, speak to them ! Instantly, 
earnestly. Now, noio is your opportunity. The white- 
winged bird is already settling into the fowler's snare. 
To-morrow the lustrous plumes will be soiled — the strong 
wing broken — the glorious immortality corrupted and 
lost ! 

Passing this, I mention — 
3. The skeptical young man. 

Perhaps you yourselves are hardly aware of the pow-, 
erful temptations to infidelity that surround the youth 
of this generation. This trashy literature, with its sense- 
less sensations ; this pretentious science, with its prema- 
ture inductions — reek with the infection. Even the 
popular theology, desiring only to be popular, and so, ; 



316 THE YOUNG MAN S MISSION. 

ignoring God's grandest and jnost solemn truths, that it 
may commend itself to carnal instincts, is destroying the 
young heart and conscience. This very custom of sepa- 
rating young men from their families to attend courses 
of Sabbath lectures, has at least this evil : it induces 
habits of wandering, which lead ofttimes into places 
where the truth is not taught; where, perhaps, cavils 
against the Bible are urged, and infidel doubts insin- 
uated. 

And thus, in one form or another, breathing for the 
whole seven days of the week the sickening malaria, 
many a young man's religious nature deteriorates. 
Presently you miss him from God's sanctuary ; he 
substitutes for his mother's Bible these vile Sunday 
newspapers. Then you hear him insinuating his own 
infidel theories ; uttering his own unbelief. 

Now with such young men you should earnestly labor. 
If you find them troubled with honest doubts on religious 
questions which you can not remove, then lead them to 
the thousand men around you, who, having made these 
cavils their study, and perhaps come up themselves from 
the terrible darkness of unbelief into the clear and ever- 
brightening light that shines in the face of a revealed 
God, can show them that even the profoundest scientific 
infidelity is a thing of false inductions, and that all this 
noisy and arrogant infidelity, paraded in popular litera- 
ture and infidel seances, has been answered so fully and 
so often that to advance its objections again is only to 
parade a man's ignorance or stupidity. 

Or, if you find them, like the great multitude of infi- 
dels, swayed only by low, mean, carnal instincts, and 
struggling in face of their own convictions to grow 



TEE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 317 



strong in unbelief, that they may walk fearlessly in evil 
ways, still do not give these men up. Plead with them. 
Pray »with them. Lead them back to the holy sanc- 
tuary ; to their mother's Bible ; to their father's God ! 
As if you saw them lifting a poison : cup — rushing upon 
a precipice ! Speak to them! "Run! etjn, and speak to 
them ! " 

Leaving these, consider — 

4. Those young men whose lives are already practically 
immoral. 

I have no limits for details here. In every style and 
strength of iniquity such characters abound here. And 
although our language in regard of them often is, "Let 
such young men alone, you can do them no good" yet it 
is very foolish — yea, very sinful language. You, as 
Christian young men, have no right to let any sinful 
man alone, whose probation God hath not ended. Unto 
such young men is your especial ministry. In this, 
Christ himself is your pattern : " Not sent to call the 
righteous but sinners to repentancey Whatever be the 
man's dangerous or even sinful habit, "Run, speak to 
him.'''' 

lie is a profane man. Then speak to him kindly, gen- 
tly, earnestly. Ask him if he has considered who that 
great and glorious God is whose awful name he is blas- 
pheming. 

lie is a Sabbath-breaker- — losing all the inestimable 
moral and intellectual benefits which God has connected 
with a right observance of his hallowed day, under the 
plea of "needful recreation" — as if a rest from bodily 
labor were all the refreshment a man needs ! As if a 
true Sabbath had not its highest mission to his moral 



318 TEE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 

nature ! As if God made a mistake at the first in not 
creating him either a beast or a butterfly ! 

He is a dishonest man — overreaching in his business ; 
unscrupulous in his statements ; unreliable in his engage- 
ments ; and rapidly losing among men all reputation for 
integrity. 

He is an impure man. He curls his lip when men talk 
of goodness and virtue, and all life's social and domestic 
affections. 

Or, if he be not thus or otherwise openly and notori- 
ously evil, he is yet manifestly entering those courses 
which are likely to make him so. 

He may be becoming intemperate. Perhaps he thinks 
himself in no danger. " Oh," he says, " I am not such a 
fool as to become an inebriate ; I have too much self- 
respect, too true a pride of personal character." Never- 
theless the fell symptoms are upon him. He loves that 
gilded saloon. He rejoices in pretexts for temperate 
drinking. He seeks occasions of social conviviality. In- 
sensibly, it may be, to himself, but quite obviously to 
you, he is yielding to the insidious power of that terrible 
habit ; he is on the outer circle of the dread whirlpool. 
Unwarned now, and in all likelihood he will perish. 
Some men, indeed, do not. Said an honored man to his 
friend, "I have drunk wine freely every day for fifty 
years, and am to-day both temperate and healthy." 
"But," said his friend, "where are your companions?" 
" Oh," replied he, " that is another thing ; I have outlived 
two generations of them !" I am not here delivering a 
temperance lecture. There is a vast amount of cant — 
of declamation worse than wasted, about the wickedness 
of wine-drinking, and the prevention of grape-culture. 



TEE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 319 



That our blessed Saviour made wine for a marriage feast, 
should settle that controversy." But I am speaking of 
young men seeking the perilous excitement of strong 
drink. And I say there is danger. Already is the im- 
*mortal bark yielding to the power of the terrible vortex ! 
And unto them you have a mission. Speak to them 
gently, lovingly. Tell them of their need in business of 
a healthy body and a clear intellect. Explain to them 
the law of growth in any unnatural pleasure. Or, if 
need be, lift up your voice like a trumpet. Cry : 
" Awake ! awake ! Spread the sail ! Ply the oar ! Escape 
for your life !" " Run, speak to them. Run, speak to 
them." 

Or, perhaps the young man is beginning to spend his 
leisure hours at such places of amusement as the theatre, 
the circus, the race-course, the card-table. Now, I am 
not here either puritanically to denounce such things, or 
philosophically to oppose them. Unquestionably many 
good men go to them — unquestionably many foolish 
things are uttered against them. I am only speaking 
now of their tendency to lead young men into evil ; a 
tendency compensated by no possible good. It is said, 
indeed, that " the race-course improves the breed of 
horses" — and so the bull-fight improves the breed of 
neat-cattle ; but neither tends very powerfully to improve 
the character of their patrons. Even granting, what is 
at least questionable, that simple speed adds to the use- 
fulness of the horse, yet the grand objection yet remains, 
that the race-course, so powerful in making fast horses, 
is, alas ! quite as powerful in making fast men. 

But even more is popularly said in favor of the theatre ; 
and yet every such argument is a simple sophistry. 



320 THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 



" The drama cultivates the taste" says one. Yes, but 
what kind of taste? A taste for rant, extravagance, 
affectation. A relish for worthless, sensational, impure 
literature; for unnatural, monstrous, execrable elocution; 
for a style of words and speech never tolerated in real * 
life, except occasionally in a Fourth of July oration, a 
sensation sermon, and an academic exhibition where a 
boy " speaks a piece." Let a lawyer address judge and 
jury ; let a physician prescribe for a patient ; let a mer- 
chant salute his customers ; let a husband speak to his 
wife, or a father to his children — let any man, in short, in 
common life, speak or read in this stately, artificial, the- 
atrical style — in these exquisitely modulated and pro- 
longed tones, with these carefully studied and imitative 
gestures, which constitute what theatre-goers and teach- 
ers of elocution pronounce " fine speaking," and the world 
would laugh at them as lunatics or fools. Among all 
sensible men the whole thing died out with the dandyism 
of the last generation. Certainly no employer of young 
men desires either petit maitre or stage player in his 
counting-room or workshop. Indeed, I know of few 
things more distressing than to see one of these inno- 
cent young men with poetry on the brain and ridden of 
rhetorical nightmare, striving to get the better of the 
honest voice God gave him amid the pauses and inflec- 
tions of this excruciating elocution. 

" But," says another, " at the theatre, and, indeed, in all 
these places of amusement, ice can study human nature." 

Yes, and so you might on a slaver's deck or in a rob- 
ber's den ; just as we might study botany in a lion- 
haunted jungle and chemistry in the smoking crater of 
a volcano. 



THE YOUNG KAN'S MISSION. 321 



But I have no room for the argument. Enough for 
my purpose now that all such amusements waste time 
and money, and unfit for life's honest and every-day 
business. Let it be known that a young man spends his 
evenings at the theatre and his afternoons at the race- 
course, and all avenues of business success will be closed 
against him. The lawyer will not have him in his office, 
nor the merchant in his counting-room ; the banker will 
not trust him with his gold, nor the druggist with his 
medicines. I do not say he will inevitably be ruined. 
Dr. Kane survived an Arctic winter, and Pliny a vol- 
canic eruption ; yea, Noah escaped the flood, and Lot 
the fire-storm — and some very good men are patrons and 
champions of all these popular amusements. But this I 
do know, that where one young man escapes unharmed, 
twenty are injured, ten are destroyed. Surely such 
young men are in peril. They recline amid flowers 
where the serpent glides; they breathe an air loaded 
with pestilence. And as unto a youth floating above 
Niagara — standing on Vesuvius when the crater cracks 
and glows — Run, speak to them. Run, speak to them. 

But I may not enlarge. These are only a few of many 
classes of young men with whom it is your high calling* 
to labor. In general to be ranked under two great divi- 
sions: 1st. Virtuous young men, whom you are called to 
guard. 2d. Vicious young men, whom you are called 
to reclaim. Alike all of them, immortal barks for which 
you are to watch ; some stanch and well manned yet 
outside the Heads and needing the pilot boat ; some 
driven already from their courses — tempest tossed amid 
breakers and needing the life-boat. All alike having 
heaven's high claim on your Christian sympathies ; and 
14* 



* 



322 THE. YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 



in regard of all alike the angel's cry comes to you this 
night — Run, speak* to them. Hun, speak to them. 
Now I have limits only very briefly to consider — ■ 
Thirdly : The manner of this labor, as set forth in 
the text — u Hun ! speak to this young man ; Hun f run, 
speak to him." The very language implies haste and 
earnestness ; but the connection of the language implies 
much more. Who was it that was thus earnestly to 
address this youth? It was an angel! And you can 
not imagine an angel speaking even earnest warning 
words save in gentleness and love. And surely your 
work with young men should be ever with the profound- 
est wisdom and in the most Christian spirit. The extent 
of your influence over others will depend not so much 
upon your talents as your discretion. There is a way of 
speaking, even about good, which is altogether evil. It 
is not every word spoken, but " the word spoken fitly" 
which inspiration magnifies. Earnest consideration, 
exquisite delicacy, are especially necessary in doing good 
with the tongue. So wide are the differences, moral, 
sesthetical, passional, intellectual, among men, that to ap- 
proach them all alike is to do more evil than good. To 
% man asleep in a burning house we cry, "Aioake, 
awake! the flames are around you!" To a somnambu- 
list walking in a dream along a house-top, we draw nigh 
with a silent, stealthy step, not daring even to whisper 
till we have drawn him back from destruction. So the 
apostle Jude puts this very duty — "Of some have com- 
passion, making a difference ; and others save with fear, 
'pulling them out of the fire.'''' 

A great orator was addressing a great crowd, when, 
in the midst of an impassioned sentence, he suddenly 



THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 323 



paused. He pressed his hand upon his forehead, as if 
faint. He said very quietly, " I must pause for a mo- 
ment — this air is too close ; indeed the crowd is so great 
that we will adjourn to the open air; I will sit down 
and rest, while, as quietly as possible, you withdraw — 
and, to prevent confusion and at the same time give me 
more air, let the audience first remove from the right- 
hand gallery." What did the man mean ? In the midst 
of his speech he saw that the pillars under that gallery 
were yielding to the crushing weight, and that a multi- 
tude were about to be swallowed up in death ! But his 
thoughtful gentleness saved them. An alarming outcry 
would have been destruction. 

Verily, in this whole matter of speech " wisdom is 
profitable to direct." There are young men, and, alas ! 
as well old ones, thinking themselves called of jGrod to 
be great moral reformers, who go forth like old knights- 
errant in iron armor, to pick quarrel and break lance 
with every evil they may meet in the highways of the 
land — bent on making a vast fuss generally, and caring 
little whether it be in a battle with a giant or a wind- 
mill ! Of course I am not advocating such work when I 
urge you to speak to men. To take your stand amid 
the noisy crowd in the street, and tell every drunkard 
he is going to destruction, and every Sabbath-breaker 
that he will surely be damned, will be more likely to 
cause you a broken head than another a broken heart. 
Christ calls a man striving to win souls " a fisher of 
men" but it is only a poor inferior kind of fish that will 
bite at a hook bated with a scorpion, or lie still in the 
bright sunshine to be transfixed with a spear. A rod 
colorless and pliant as a reed — a line exquisitely taper- 



324: THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 



ing to an invisible hair — a fly imitating life and falling 
like thistle-down — a reel playing like finest clock-work 
— an arm like a steel spring — a foot noiseless as a fairy's, 
and an eye like the eagle's^ — all these are needful to one 
emulous in angling ; and surely no less skill and care 
should be his who would fulfill his mission as " a fisher 
of men." Enough on this point just to remember that 
the model presented you in the text is the exquisite and 
loving speech of an angel. 

But then it was an angel thoroughly in earnest, and 
as we have said, the language implies anxious haste — 
" Run, run, speak to them " — go forth to your self-deny- 
ing and glorious work with all the power God has given 
you. Be instantly, thoroughly in earnest — 

1st. Because these young men are in imminent and 
deadly-peril. 

That young stranger sitting at your side to-night may 
before another sunrise be tempted to destruction. There 
is no earthly thing of so rapid growth as the principle 
of evil in the heart of youth. With terrible rhetoric did 
the apostle write : " Lust conceiving bringeth forth Sin, 
and Sin finished bringeth forth Death.'''' Here the 
w T ord "lust" denotes any natural desire inordinately ex- 
cited. And only three short, sharp steps in the prog- 
ress: Desire — Sin — Death. This moral passage from a 
grand but perverted impulse to destruction, like the pas- 
sage of a fated bark on Niagara — first the smooth bright 
stream sweetly glassing heaven's magnificent azure; 
then the rushing, roaring -rapids ; then the tremendous 
plunge into the yawning abyss. Desire— Delirium- 
Death ! So rapid the progress. To-night that immor- 
tal bark floats at your side— to-morrow it may be ship- 



THE YOUNG MISSION. 325 



wrecked forever; therefore be in earnest — "Hun, ru?i, 
apeak to him.'''' ■ 

2d. Be in earnest because the work itself is all-im- 
portant. 

There is no possible overestimate of the value, in a 
community like this, of such a Christian Association. Go 
forth to-night into your great city and look around you. 
Alas! what multitudes of young men — ay, and of ma- 
ture men and little children — as verily without the Gospel 
as the millions of the heathen; and no ordinary means 
of grace will ever reach them. Build a hundred free 
churches and they will never enter them. There is not 
here, as in the older States, a pervading Christian in- 
fluence constraining to the sanctuary ; and, apart from 
the few thousand regular or irregular church-goers, 
scarcely an individual of all this earnest and intelligent 
multitude ever hear a Gospel-sermon. 

We are losing all hope of saving this city and this 
State from irreligion and infidelity, unless the Christian 
young men of these different churches go forth together 
to carry the Gospel to these masses, like the primitive 
disciples, " going everywhere preaching (i. e. speaking) 
the Word." 

And for such work God has formed you and furnished 
you. Yours is the open heart, the glowing affection, the 
sanguine spirit, the boundless aspiration, the indomitable 
* courage, and soldiership, and hope — the very energies, in 
short wherewith Hannibal and Alexander and Xapoleon 
conquered mighty armies — the heroism and strength of 
exulting youth ! Mingling daily with this excited multi- 
tude, in the resistless gentleness of a Christian influence 
— in the matchless eloquence of simple Christian speech, 



326 THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 



you, and you alone, can leaven the mass with godliness. 
What all Christian ministers are utterly powerless to do 
— what these older Christians have no heart to do — our 
religious young men, if united in loving labor, could do 
— roll back this fearful tide of unbelief and ungodliness, 
and save our city and our State to humanity and God. 

I have no words to express my sense of the importance 
of your ministry. Surely, it is a work second to none 
under heaven. Oh, truthful vision of the text — one 
angel crying to another angel ! and this the burden of 
the heavenly eloquence :. " Hun, speak to this young 
man.'''' 

Would that the angel were here to utter again the 
angelic exhortation ; how earnest would be the heavenly 
words in behalf of our churches, our city, our world. 
We want you all thoroughly aroused to your high call- 
in ac, as Christ's own chosen co-laborers in seeking the 
wandering and saving the lost. Moderation is good in 
its place, and patience and conservatism are beautiful in 
their season ; but the times in which we live have too 
much of a miserable counterfeit conservatism, made up 
of timidity and selfishness. Our popular Christianity has 
too many anchors and brakes. We want more wind in 
the sails, more steam at the engine. Apostolic modera- 
tion was a flaming ministry unto men that drove the in- 
spired man forth through shipwrecks and imprisonments 
and deaths, seemingly beside himself under the con- 1 
straining love of Jesus ; and our age calls for that old 
apostolic life, that old fiery baptism. The angel bids us 
speak to you in behalf of this great city, which, accord- 
ing as you labor for it, may become beautiful as Zion, 
beloved of angels, or terrible as Edom, the city of Death. 



THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 327 



In behalf of this marvelous land, goodly as the old land 
of promise, yet beneath which lie powers that, if roused 
by Divine indignation, may open for it another Asphal- 
tites ; in behalf of a great nation ; in behalf of a ruined 
world — the angel bids us speak to you of a coming 
judgment, of a glorious eternity, where every soul 
saved by your work for Christ shall be as a gem of im- 
mense price in your crowns of rejoicing — of that Saviour 
who for you left his own eternal Throne and the bosom 
of his Father and all heaven's ineffable raptures, and just 
that you might be saved, shrunk from no load, no sacri- 
fice, no suffering ; and our cry is, " Rise, go forth, work 
for your God and your generation" 

Look around you on the Christian Church this day, 
against which even now rises the wildest, mightiest 
array of unbelief and ungodliness the world ever saw ; 
and yet in behalf of dying men doing what ? Alas ! 
reposing with folded hands and a placid brow, soothed by 
sweet music, dreaming about the glorious millennium — ■ 
the second coming of Christ. 

How the Church of God must look in the midst of a 
lost world — " a spectacle to angels." 

You have all read the fairy tale : A great Eastern city, 
beleaguered by fierce foemen, was arming in resistless 
strength, to issue from her gates and sweep away, as a 
driving tempest the chaff, the insolent invader. But 
from the camp of the foe came forth a mighty magician, 
and with the breath of his sorcery changed the whole 
city into stone. Every thing wherein life had been became 
a cold, dead statue. There stood the pawing war-horse, 
with nostril distended, caparisoned for battle. There 
stood the mailed champion, ready to spring to his seat 



328 THE YOUNG MAN'S MISSION. 



and lay lance in rest for the onset. But, alas ! the 
strong* arm was cold stone on the neck of the petrified 
charger. There stood the serried infantry, with armor, 
and plumes, and uqfloating banners, but each man cold, 
breathless, lifeless. The eye had a stony glare. Hand, 
brow, lip, were frozen to marble. All still — silent — 
death-struck ! Alas ! picture sadly truthful of Christ's 
slumbering Church to-day. 

But exult not against us, oh, our enemy ! Hark ! 
Along the stony street comes a swiftly gliding footstep. 
A youthful stranger has crossed the barrier, 'and stands 
amid the dead. See; he lifts a golden trumpet — he 
peals one long, loud blast on the icy air. And now the 
sorcerer's spell is loosened. Life beats and bounds again. 
The champion springs to his seat ; the war-horse neighs 
for the battle ; the plumes wave; the banners stream in 
air ; the dead men are alive again, and rush forth to vic- 
tory. And such, in our generation, is the young man's 
mission. Put God's glorious trumpet to your lip and 
blow one loud blast that shall waken all these dead 
forms into mighty Jife, and lead forth the army of God 
to the victory of the world 1 



THE MOTHER'S SORROW. 



"A foolish Son is the heaviness of his Mother." — Prov. x. 1. 

I should hardly have chosen this simple text — sug- 
gestive only of homely thought — but for the fact, that, 
simultaneous almost with your request to address the 
Young Men's Christian Association, came another request, 
from an unknown mother in an Eastern State, that her 
son, now residing in this city, might become a special 
object of my watch and prayer. In her letter, which is 
but a sample of many which the ministers of this city 
are continually receiving from distant parents, she says : 

"My*dear child is a way from home, among strangers, exposed to 
the peculiar temptations of a large city and your new social life; and 
though I have great confidence in his moral principles, yet I know 
the strength of the evil influences that surround him, and should he 
fall a prey to the spoiler, the heart of a widowed mother would be utterly 
broken.'" 

Coming as these two requests did together, I could 
not separate them in thought. They at once suggest- 
ed both theme and text. And while they may not be 
promising of profound and eloquent thought, yet are 
they surely appropriate to the occasion, and will not, we 
trust, be found altogether unprofitable. Perhaps I am 
addressing that very son to-night. I am surely address- 



330 TEE MOTHER' S SORROW. 



ing sons in exactly his circumstances. I am speaking 
especially to young men. Every one of you has a moth- 
er somewhere — it may be in a distant home — it may he 
in the grave. You are all sons ! You have all mothers ! 
And I know — for in all these faces there looks up to me 
no soul that has been brutalized into shame or scorn of a 
mother's gentle love — I know that my simple text will 
come to your hearts tenderly as I speak of " that foolish 
son that is a heaviness to Ids mother." 

The word "heaviness" means, in this connection, 
sadness — sorrow — dejection of mind — a wounded spirit— 
a broken heart. The word " foolishness" is used here in 
a sense peculiar to Solomon, denoting, not merely an in- 
tellectual weakness, nor merely a religious want, but in 
general, any grand moral deficiency in the whole com- 
plex economy of character. The field oj)ened before us 
is therefore exceedingly broad, over which our present 
limits allow us only cursorily to glance, as we consider a 
few of those more common classes of young men who, in 
Solomon's words, are a heaviness to maternal love. 

Now, as particularly indicated by the word " foolish- 
ness" in its more popular sense of mental deficiency, 
consider, 

First — Tlie young man neglectful of his intellectual 
culture. 

I need not pause to show that in a day like this, every 
man should be educated, and that his progress in educa- 
tion should end only with his being, so that if the being 
be immortal, the progress should be immortal. And it is 
indeed immortal. A finite being never becomes — never 
can become complete. Paul, risen and glorified spirit as 
he is, intellectually even yet " counts himself not to have 



THE M 0 TREE' S SOEROW. 331 



apprehended." Still, before his lifted eye and advancing 
foot, rise the receding mountain ranges of "things to 
come" — still "to come!" In all the infinite range of 
being, after you leave the irrational, until you reach the 
divine, there is none whose " education is finished." 

Surely, then, yours is not finished. And every young 
man ought to be giving diligent heed to his intellectual 
development and discipline. Of course, I do not mean 
that all young men should aim to become profoundly 
learned. The word "foolishness" in the text is the 
antithesis not of " learning" but of " wisdom" — two very 
different things. And, although learning is greatly to 
be desired, yet in its profoundness it is not possible to all 
young men, nor necessary to our present idea. We are 
speaking of " education" — and the word defines itself. It 
means " E-ducation" ( i. e. ) eduction — a drawing forth 
— a development — not a mind infused with erudition, but 
a mind led forth to think — educed into practical and 
profitable activity. 

And here lies the grand popular difficulty. As think- 
ing is hard work, and most men are lazy, few willingly 
think. They prefer to buy thought as they buy groceries, 
second-hand and diluted, and so deal only with the 
hucksters. I am not here to speak in disparagement 
either of the popular press, or the platform. They fur- 
nish what is called for. They meet the demands of the 
market. If profound thought were popular, it could be 
furnished for a consideration. But as diluted thought 
pays best, they utter it diluted. So the popular press 
roars and foams — a grand Niagara of sentiment and 
water. And the platform swarms with lecturers who 
throw rainbows by the hour over old nonsense vaporized 



332 THE MO TE E E ' S SORROW. 



into the seeming of new truth. And all this answers the 
purpose of the utterer. It supplies the popular demand. 
It puts money into the purse. But as for all purposes 
of education — developing and strengthening the intellect 
— training the mind to think for itself — to perform 
successfully life's great ministries — to understand man's 
nature as it is, and God's world as it is, and to achieve 
upon that world and in behalf of that nature, the great 
ends of its creation — for all such purposes, the whole 
thing is a failure. It is like a physical regimen of sweet- 
meats and sleep — the edification of wild asses that snuff 
the east wind ! 

Now, I hardly need say that a young man, who amid 
the active business of life, sinks into this popular mental 
indolence and imbecility, fulfills the condition of the 
text. A true mother's first and favorite thought is her 
child's education. It may be a very foolish style of 
thought. It not unfrequently is. Indeed, in its effort 
to secure a child's premature culture, parental solicitude 
1 ecomes sometimes cruel and monstrous. We see small 
children whose great want is muscular development, set 
to master intellectual school-tasks of science or language, 
the sure results of which will be permanent physical 
infirmity, and a precocious development of the intellect 
and its prematured decay. We find faithful and conrpe- 
tent teachers blamed or changed because they can not 
supply the child's natural deficiencies — creating brains 
where there are none, or, where there are, insureing their 
unnatural growth. We find children blamed and pun- 
ished because they will be, what indeed they ought to 
be, what God intended they should be, not linguists, and 
mathematicians, and philosophers, and oraters, but 



TEE MOTHER'S SORROW. 333 



simply little children, un studious, and noisy, and riotous, 
fond of holidays and play. 

Confessedly, this parental anxiety for a child's educa- 
tion errs oftentimes sadly, and yet these mistakes only 
manifest the strength of the anxiety. Sure we are that 
from the earliest dawn of the child's reason, the true 
mother's chief care is to fit him intellectually for the 
great tasks of life. She well knows that all his earthly 
successes, his respectability and usefulness among men ; 
yea, the very permanency and strength of his moral 
principles of character, all depend on the style of his 
intellectual culture. And when, instead of strengthening 
its immortal wings to ascend the great firmaments of 
thought, her boy gives his nature the regimen of a para- 
sitic vine, seeking trellises for its tendrils, sinking from 
the true rank of a thoughtful man into that lower life 
whose law is amusement, pursuing no thorough and 
comprehensive course of reading, ignoring all the philo- 
sophic and scientific discoveries of the age, becoming at 
most a critic of light literature and lectures, a great 
scholar of newspapers and small novels, then surely, in 
his sphere of intellectual inefficiency and insignificance, 
does he become " a foolish son, the heaviness of his 
mother." 

But now passing all this, for the text's more important 
references to styles and distinctions of moral character, 
consider 

Secoisdly — The indolent young man. Of this class 
there are two distinct species: — The man who has no 
regular business / and the man who has no energy in it. 

1st. In all communities there are found young men 
who have no regular business. If moving at the top of 



331 TEE MOTHER'S SORROW. 



society, inherited wealth, or parental indulgence place 
the youth above all necessity of personal toil or thrift, 
and so he has nothing to do but to rise late, and dress care- 
fully, and ride out, and dine, and visit, an<J amuse himself 
generally, and go to sleep again. Or, if moving at the bot- 
tom of society, he has neither energy nor ambition to rise. 
Regarding himself predestinated to continue haggard, 
and squalid, and misanthropic, he yields to his destiny, 
as a shell-fish settles in the sand, and contents himself 
with the house and heritage of poverty. He walks 
abroad at noonday to inspect the streets ; loiters of pleas- 
ant evenings on public corners to take care of the weath- 
er ; and eats, if he have any to eat ; and drinks at any 
rate ; and goes to sleep again. These are specimens of 
young men found everywhere, from foundation to top- 
stone, in the great social edifice — growths indigenous 
and without culture in all savage life : but in our bargain- 
and-barter civilization, the result of that poetic progress 
whereby a man escapes all human cares, and attains to 
the serene dignity of a vegetable ! 

2d. In all communities there are other young men 
who, having some ostensible business, do not regularly 
and resolutely attend to it. The world is full of men 
who embark on the troubled waters of industrial life 
only to founder in the great deep, or to drive ashore 
shipwrecked. Various causes produce this : — 

(a) In some cases it results from sheer indolence. The 
man has no bone or sinew in him — no instinct of effort — 
no adaptation for work. Probably some anxious and 
thrifty friend chose his business for him. But as it was 
a business which would not do itself, but required some- 
body to do it, the work is not done. The man might 



THE MOTHER'S SORRO W. 335 



have succeeded, and perhaps somewhat distinguished 
himself, as a zoophite fastened to a rock and twirling 
tentacula. But among men of strong hands and brave 
hearts, he is simply a mistake — a maladjustment — his 
success is impossible. 

(b) In other cases this results from a wrong choice of 
business. The man got into a sphere for which he had 
no adaptation either mental or physical. We see these 
things daily — giants twisting threads, and- dwarfs carry- 
ing burdens ; Shakespeares making shoes, and Tuppers 
making poetry ; statesmen keeping flocks, and herdsmen 
gone to Congress. Men are everywhere out of place, 
maladjusted, and of course they fail. And by this first 
failure some men are hopelessly discouraged. Not per- 
ceiving that failure in a wrong path is a real part of suc- 
cess, by turning the feet into other and right paths, they 
have no energy to put their bark about on the stormy 
waters of life — and so continue in the mistaken business, 
sailing on the shoreward course, until becalmed in some 
quiet bay ; thinking of no future progress, they roll lazily 
with the tide, waiting resignedly for decay to tear in 
pieces their sails and take apart their timbers. 

(c) In other cases this results from false theories of 
success. The man is a believer in good luck and grand 
chances. He trusts to fortune, and waits for opportuni- 
ties. The sky is cloudy and the husbandman will not 
plow. The wind is contrary and the mariner will not 
weiodi anchor. The man is waiting for miracles and will 
not use means — always getting ready to do great things 
and meanwhile doing nothing. 

(d) In other cases, still, the failure results from, divided 
application and energy. The man attempts too much. 



336 



THE MOTHER'S SORROW. 



Ignoring the principle of a division of labor, as the grand 
law of civilization, he affects the practical barbarism of 
attempting to do every thing. lSTow, one business is as 
much as any man can do well at a time. This is the 
patent law of the universe. Every efficient thing God 
ever made, does its own work always and its own work 
only. The bee attempts not to sing, nor the bird to 
make honey ; the vine does not essay to bear apples, nor 
the fig-tree to bear grapes. The sun is contented to take 
care of the day, and the moon is earnestly busy taking 
care of the night. Such is God's ordinance — and the 
successful man conforms to it. Life is too short for the 
accomplishment of great tasks with divided energies. 
One prize must allure — one business engross him. And 
the blazon on the banner he bears to the battle of life is 
Paul's glorious motto — " this one thing 1 do /" 

But, be the reason of the failure what it may, the world 
is full of men who, with a business to do, never succeed 
in it. Life swarms with indolent and inefficient men- 
poor, passionless, stolid, statuesque dreamers of dreams 
in a waking world — maladjustments in the moving 
mechanism of the universe — living discords in the in- 
dustrial harmonies of creation going on around them ! 
And,, surely, all such sons are a heaviness to mothers. 
Women's nature is proverbially aspiring. Ambition for 
her child is an element of her affection. When she bore 
him on her bosom and rocked him to gentle dreams, 
it was that he might become strong for life's work ; 
that he might he something and do something. 

And if I speak to a young man indolently disappoint- 
ing parental hopes, then I speak to a son unworthy of 
his mother. Rouse yourself even now. Go forth to the 



THE MOTHER'S SORROW. 337 



battle of life with a strong hand and a brave heart ; 
laughing to scorn all obstacles ; scattering all enemies ; 
understanding that energy creates its own success ; that 
circumstances do not make men, but that men make cir- 
cumstances ; that obstacles are only steps in the ladder 
which energy climbs ; that opposition is only a wind on 
the bow whereby a drifting bark weathers a headland, 
and works itself into harbor. Those that love you are 
looking for your success in life. They have equipped the 
bark and sent it forth to the seas ; and if, through any in- 
dolence or false seamanship of your own, you make ship- 
wreck of your manhood — then, alas ! you are " a foolish 
son, a heaviness to your mother.' 1 '' 

But passing now this large class of indolent young 
men, consider — 

Thirdly — The young man who selects a wrong busi- 
ness, or pursues it with a wrong spirit. 

The grand aim of men to-day is to get rich speedily ; 
and their practical theory is, that all business is honorable 
in proportion to its revenues. But never was a theory 
more false. All honest business is equally honorable. 
The man who, with shovel and pick, toils on a railroad, 
is nature's nobleman, in contrast with the swindling offi- 
cial of the concern who thrives upon villainies. The 
drayman, who hauls boxes from the cellar, is a prince 
royal in the presence of the master merchant who sits 
above in the counting-room, projecting dishonest gains 
or proud of • fraudulent successes. The plowman — the 
mechanic — the merchant — the professional man — are all 
fellow-workers, and if alike honest, are all alike honora- 
ble. But the false theory is the popular one. And so 
the aim of young men of energy is, an occupation prom- 
15 



338 



THE MOTHER'S SORROW. 



ising the earliest and largest success ; and this is well if 
it involve no compromise of moral principles. But if it 
do, let the work be what it may, the young man should 
shrink from it as from contamination. He should engage 
in no work requiring the slightest violation of a dictate 
of conscience. He should consider that the benefit of an 
acquired fortune is not objective, but subjective — i. e., 
consisting not in the value of the possession, but in the 
moral character acquired in its pursuit — just as in a 
gymnasium the good to the athlete is not the weight 
lifted, but the muscular strength acquired. Evil work 
may have large revenues. A theatrical actor— a charla- 
tan showman — a fraudulent speculator — may roll in 
wealth, while honest labor is in want. But such success 
is simply infamous ; such a man is a disgrace to his gen- 
eration — " he is a foolish son, a heaviness to his mother.'''' 
•Woman's nature is alive with lofty and chivalrous 
sentiments. A son's spotless honor is his mother's glory. 
And if from that high path wherein she trained his early 
feet to walk, he descend to an infamous calling, or even 
in a reputable business to seek success by dishonorable 
artifice, then does he purchase success at the price of her 
tears who bore him. And every item added to his 
wealth gathers but another monstrous weight to the 
already crushing heavings of his mother's wounded 
spirit. 

O young men ! just unmooring from a home of peace- 
ful love to the treacherous seas of a stormy life, take that 
mother's holy memory with you — a star to guide into all 
noble courses — remembering that a son's spotless name 
shall be, while life lasts, a father's truest glory and a 
mother's greatest joy ! 



THE MOTHER'S SORROW. 339 



But passing now from this whole matter of business, 
consider — 

Fourthly — The young man who makes choice of un- 
principled, immoral, irreligious companions. 

This is perhaps the first anxiety of parental love, as a 
child passes the charmed circle of household affection. 
For such a child seems like an inexperienced insect 
moving amid the gossamer meshes of a watchful de- 
stroyer. His friendships lire to be such as chance or 
business associations may fling in his way. And it is a 
favorite artifice of the great spirit of evil, to seduce 
through these fine social instincts the young heart to de- 
struction. Beware then, O young men ! as for your 
life, of the friendships you form! Choose your compan- 
ions as you would if they were to go in daily to your 
mother's fireside ! Beware, as for your soul's welfare, of 
all companionships like these : 

Beware of the young man of fashion ! I need not 
describe him. He is of a large class, found everywhere, 
whose life is summed in rising, dressing, dining, visiting, 
and sleeping. He differs from the indolent man in that 
he is always busy about trifles. A pitiful butterfly spe- 
cies — flitting from flower to flower, and dying like au- 
tumnal insects, despised and forgotten. And we say 
avoid such men. You are here to fit yourselves for the 
great duties of an earnest life. Possibly your honest 
earnings are too small to enable you to array yourself in 
the purple and fine linen of his fashionable attire. Cer- 
tain I am your head has too much brain to be a hatter's 
show-block, and your heart too much brave blood to 
serve as a tailor' s lay-figure. You are here to become 
men, not manikins. And if one of these poor ephemera 



340 THE MOTHER'S SORROW. 



of fashion, who eat their father's bread and use their sis- 
ter's perfumes, should cast on you a glance of patronizing 
friendship, just tell him you were created an immortal 
being, and not a zoophite — that you live by work, and 
do not vegetate by suction. But take not to your bosom 
such a friendship as a heaviness to a mother ! 

Beware of the sceptical young man ! There are two 
classes of freethinkers in the midst of us. There are 
those who think freely and speak freely of human nature. 
Their creed on this point is Calvin's total depravity ma- 
lignantly intensified. They maintain that all outward mo- 
rality is the specious disguise of some covert wickedness. 
" Honesty " — " purity " — " benevolence " — these, they 
tell us, are all shams — the stalking-horses of villainy 
lying in wait for victims. And their aim is to under- 
mine all generous faith in man — to plant the fatal Upas 
of suspicion in the fresh gardens of the soul. These men 
are the croaking ravens — the screaming vultures of 
humanity — whose taste is for dead flesh, and not for 
nature's purple fruitage, and are to be avoided as the 
very apostles of pollution. 

But worse even than these are the men that think 
freely and speak freely of religion. With them, a Chris- 
tian profession is regarded as simple hypocrisy. To them 
the Bible is a falsehood — the Church an association of 
evilly-designing men — the priesthood a privileged and un- 
principled caste, and retribution but a dream of mediaeval 
credulity. In the main, they are men of impure lives. The 
Bible condemns their evil practices, and they set them- 
selves to discredit it. So they call to their aid Hume, and 
Paine, and Volney, and Voltaire, and Wright, and Owen— 
and the whole motley crew. From one they gather a 



THE MOTHER'S SORROW. 341 



low jest ; from another, a malignant cavil; from another, 
a specious sophism ; and, thus crammed with blasphemy, 
go forth to set their feet upon all that is pure, and their 
face against the heavens ; and having got rid of all fear 
of God, and all principles of virtue, and all respect of 
honest men, and all decencies of personal character, they 
exult in the triumph of reason over superstition and 
priestcraft, and call themselves "Freethinkers!" 

And, verily, they are "free /" — as a reptile is free to 
wallow in pollution ! Free as unseemly satyrs, to dance 
and howl amid grand immortal ruins ! Free to follow 
the trail of a serpent in the mire rather than a seraph's 
shining path through the firmament ! Free to slaver 
with their venom the radiant purities of this book of 
God, and to adore as a new evangel the blasphemous 
and idiotic ravings of these abandoned and outcast lepers 
of humanity ! Free to brutalize all their noble moral in- 
stincts — to dwarf all their gifts of intellect and genius — 
to demonstrate their brotherhood with cattle and creep- 
ing things — to exult in their brute-hood, and do after 
their kind ! 

Now, such men as these are around you — lying in wait 
for you — and our warning is, beware of them. Believe 
us, there is not an infidel objection these men urge 
against the Bible, which has not been so triumphantly 
answered a thousand times, that just to urge it again as 
an argument, is to parade a man's ignorance — is to show 
himself a weak, credulous Philistine, setting up again the 
poor shattered Dagon before the Ark of our God ! If an 
honest doubt arise in your heart as to any great truth of 
religion, go, for its solution, to some one who has at least 
read the Bible carefully. But these "free-thinkers V — 



342 



THE MOTHER'S SORROW. 



these men and women delighting to sneer at holy things ! 
— oh, avoid them as creatures that would fain poison 
within you all the springs of peace, and purity, and 
immortality ! 

Your parents, alas ! — that father, with his pleading 
prayer! — that mother, with her yearning heart ! — rather 
would they see you coffined and sepulchred ; that proud 
brow cold ; that bright eye sightless — rather thus, a 
thousand times, than to see you fall a prey to the ma- 
lignant spoiler, whose delight is in the ruins of a soul — 
a soul ! 

Beware, above all, of the young man of practical im- 
morality. I can not enlarge here. The name of this 
class is legion ; and on all sides do they surround you. 
They are of every type and form of iniquity ; but avoid 
them all as lepers in the market-place ! 

That man is a sharper in his business! He over- 
reaches the ignorant, and drives hard bargains with men 
in trouble ; his conscience is concerned with law-honesty ; 
his integrity is intrenched amid statutes of limitation ; 
his type is a spider entrapping thoughtless insects ! 
Avoid him ! Avoid him ! 

That man is untruthful ! You can not trust to his 
statements, nor rely on his promises. He is wanting in 
the grand substratum of all noble moral character. Avoid 
him ! 

That man is a Sabbath-breaker, aprofane swearer. He 
refrains his feet from the sanctuary y and lingers long 
over the wine / Avoid him ! 

That man is a quarreler ! He wears much hair, and 
carries a weapon, and looks fierce, and talks of his honor ! 
Avoid him ! 



THE MOTHER'S SORROW. 343 



That man's associations are zoith "fast men!" He 
gets behind the scenes at a tlieatre ; and holds a watch 
at a race-course ; and is critical of cards and wine in a 
club-room ! Avoid him ! 

That man has no reputation for purity ! He curls his 
lip and looks wise when men speak of goodness and vir- 
tue. Perhaps he boasts of vile deeds and vile associates ; 
and makes a mock of domestic love, and woman's truth, 
and all life's gentler and holier affections ! Avoid him ! 
oh, avoid him as you would a malignant fiend ! 

Avoid, in short, every man whom you would not see 
seated in your own home-shadow — sharing the unsus- 
pecting confidence of a father's, a mother's, a sister's 
gentle love ! Alas ! alas ! for the direful contagion of 
these evil companionships ! Deep seated amid the puri- 
ties of your own better nature, are the germs of latent 
evil, which the rank breath of these corrupters of youth 
will nurture into broods of gigantic scorpions ! Have, 
therefore, nothing to do with them. And if one of these 
men of questionable reputation seeks. your friendship, tell 
him — you were made for better things than to feed the 
screaming vultures of passion ; that you have not, as yet, 
got entirely rid of such old-fashioned things as a heart, 
and a conscience, and regard for a father's honor and a 
mother's love. That if he choose to go down to the asp's 
hole, and the cockatrice's den, and the serpent's dust — 
there need be no disputing about taste — but for your- 
self you find in your bosom a winged and immortal 
spirit, and bending above you a firmament of glory ; and, 
on the whole, prefer to fling abroad your pinion, anjd soar 
to the sun ! 

I repeat it: Avoid evil companions! I warn you 



344 THE MOTHER'S SORROW. 



with all the power of my solemn text ! I plead with 
you by all the tenderness of a mother's deathless love ! 
If you would not fill her gentle eyes with tears, and her 
dreams with fearful phantoms, oh, take not to your life 
such fellowships, to be as lead, as rock, as a mountain, in 
their crushing " heaviness to that mother's heart." 

But passing now the case of the young man who 
chooses evil companions, consider — 

Fifthly — The young man who has become evil him- 
self. 

And surely such a son is a mother's heaviness. 

It seems, indeed, almost impossible that, coming from 
a happy Christian home, any young man should ever go 
so widely astray. But, alas ! the strange thing happens. 
We see it every day. The youth crosses the threshold 
of affection, recoiling from all paths of open sin and 
shame, as a white-winged bird fi\ m a ravening vulture's 
nest. But, alas ! to that young h?art the guileful tempter 
comes — he points — he whispers — he smiles — he smooths 
the path down gently for the feet. His first words are 
all gentle and of good fellowship ; he would improve the 
youth's manners; beguile his lonely hours ; increase his 
knowledge of the world. Presently he takes a bolder 
tone ; insensibly he paints vice in radiant colors. The 
youth at first recoils. It is hard work to force that im- 
mortal bark into the outer circle of the moral maelstrom ! 
Conscience moves ! Memory whispers ! In visions of 
the night the father's gray locks seem to move ! the 
mother's eye to watch and weep ! But the tempter is 
not foiled. He comes again and again. The youth 
yields little by little to his honeyed words ! I need not 
picture him further. He has cut from his moral moor- 



THE MOTHER'S SORROW. 345 



ings, and the bark, on a wild, deep river, is carried 
mightily downward ! 

And what is that young man now ? Ah me ! a fearful 
"heaviness" to that father's life — to that mother's heart! 
Into that distant home have been borne rumors of that 
child's evil courses — of vile companions — of desecrated 
Sabbaths — of unseemly revels. And see that father and 
that mother now ! Ah ! those tear-stained cheeks ! those 
sobbing, wrestling prayers ! Had the news come that 
that dear child was only sick — only dying, this might 
be borne ; for close, close to that dying pillow would 
parental love have pressed, and the bitterness of the 
hour been sweetened by the fond hope of meeting in 
gladness beyond the grave ! But, alas ! a son upon whose 
soul the pestilence has fallen ! this is a burden that 
presses, oh, how heavily ! 

I can not enlarge here. I speak not to describe the 
downward road, but only to warn you against entering 
it ! We have small hope of reclaiming the abandoned. 
We speak chiefly with a hope to preserve the unfailen. 
Nevertheless, if it should happen, as indeed it may, that 
I speak this night to one young man who has yielded 
to temptation and is rushing to ruin, then I fling my- 
self in that young man's path with my text's strong 
motive, and I say to him now : " Remember your 
mother !" Ah ! I care not for that smile ! I know that 
conscience works and stings beneath it ! You are not 
yet a fiend; and the last angel that deserts your soul 
will be your mother's memory! So I look into that 
scornful face and cry, " Remember tour mother !" 
Do you say, "she is dead?" Thank God in her behalf, 
then ! She is saved from the living agony of beholding 
15* 



346 THE MOTHER'S SORROW. 



a son's ruin ! But for you my motive is as strong ! 
Dead! is she? And does this wild autumnal wind 
make melancholy music over her distant grave ? Well, 
then, I tell you that every step you take in your present 
sinful courses, tramples the dust of her broken heart 
deeper in the shadows of that sepulchre ! Or if she live, 
then I tell you that that faithful, gentle heart lives with 
you, dies with you. See ! see ! right in your downward 
path it rises ! A phantom with a pale forehead and 
weeping eyes ! Oh, pause, young man ! Your feet ! 
your feet ! Behold, they are trampling on a mother's 
broken heart ! 

But I turn from this picture. I speak now to the un- 
fallen, whose life is beautiful with purity and filial love, 
and I seek only to warn you against the first beginnings 
of evil. Young man, you have yonder in your room, 
your mother 's picture ! Or if you have not, go get one! 
And carry it ever with you ! Bind it to your bosom ; 
and ichen tempted to any evil, consult that silent monitor. 
Draw forth and look upon that speechless face ! Oh, 
what tremendous power to keep back from all evil there 
would be in the simple vision of a mother ] s face ! 

Imagine a young man sitting in some place of evil con- 
course — in a gambling house — an infidel club-room — at 
the sumptuous board of an inebriate revel, or in some 
place of darker, deeper infamy ! And, now, in some 
scene like this, let divine power work me a simple mir- 
acle. Behold a shadow rises as along the fabled mirror 
of Agrippa ! It grows denser ! It takes shape and 
lineaments ! And now a human face looks out, a calm 
pale brow, and eyes of earnest love ! A Mother's pace ! 
And see this young man now ! How his cheek grows 



THE MOTHER'S SORROW. 347 



pale ! How his knees smite together ! How he springs 
from his repose, and rushes from that haunt of iniquity 
as if pursued by an avenging spectre from eternity ! 

Believe me, dear hearer, parental love becomes agony 
when a child turns into evil courses ! To save you from 
this dire moral pestilence a parent would gladly lay 
down life. When the plague broke out in Italy, and all 
who were exposed to it inevitably died, there lived a 
mother with three small children in an infected district. 
Presently she felt in her own person symptoms of the 
disease. In the morning were the chills and heat of 
fever ; at noon the fatal plague-spot sho wed itself. She 
knew that she must die. But she could not bear the 
thought of communicating death to her darlings. With 
her first suspicion of her own attack she had sent her 
children away from her to an upper chamber, and when 
that suspicion was confirmed she rose in her great agony, 
locked her little ones into the chamber, denied herself 
the last embrace, the last look of those dear faces, the 
last accents of those beloved voices, turned in speech- 
less agony away, dragged herself across the threshold, 
along the deserted street to the public dead-house, and 
then lying down amid the uncofiined corpses, died alone ! 
Such is a mother's anxious care to save a child's body from 
the pestilence ! But then, from this moral contagion — 
this plague that falls upon the immortal spirit — who can 
tell what a mother's heart would not endure to save 
the child of her bosom ? 

I can not enlarge. I speak to generous and ingenuous 
men to-night. And I say to them that, in crossing the 
threshold of these sinful courses, they are bringing a 
mountain weight of heaviness on hearts that love them. 



343 THE MOTE EE'S SORROW. 



Just let there be whispered in your childhood's home a 
story of your dissipation — your dishonesty — your intem- 
perance — your impurity — and then better, a thousand 
times better, more generous, more merciful, the hand 
that should drive an assassin's dagger into that mother's 
gentle heart ! 

Now, there are other classes of character we had de- 
signed to exhibit here, but our limits forbid, and we 
conclude by considering, 

Sixthly — The young man who lives in neglect of 
personal religion. 

This is unquestionably the main thought of the text. 
In its last analysis Solomon always uses " wisdom " in 
the sense of personal piety r , and " foolishness " as a syno- 
nym of practical irreligion. 

And it does not matter for our argument whether or 
not you so regard it. You may be of the class of young 
men who sneer at religion, and think it noble and wise 
to call themselves infidels. But then your mother, does 
not. And to her heart the very thought of your infidel- 
ity is a painful burden. To her, religion is no weak and 
driveling fanaticism, but a life — a power — a heavenly 
and eternal glory — an influence that makes and can alone 
make this earthly life peaceful, and calm, and pure, and 
prosperous, and ennobled — which heightens all its glad- 
ness and makes all its loads less — which hangs a heavenly 
lamp of hope at the lowliest lintel, and flings light as 
from the plumes of an angel, over the loneliest grave — 
which prepares, and alone can. prepare, the soul of man 
to pass hopefully away from this scene of mortal cares, 
and to cross the threshold of an eternal door, and move* 
fittingly among those higher spheres of the glorious life 



THE MOTHER' S SORROW. 349 



that peoples eternity, and to wear diadems, and to wield 
sceptres, and to grasp destinies of unbounded splendor, 
and be kings and priests unto God for ever and ever. 

To that believing mother's soul this Bible appeals 
with a weight of evidence that is demonstrative — over- 
whelming. And the shallow cavils of an infidel libertine, 
and the blasphemous rhapsodies of a social outcast have 
no power to weaken her assured faith in God's glorious 
oracles. Religion seems to her no poetic dream nor 
philosophic dogma — but a momentous message from 
eternity. It is the revelation of overwhelming truths. 
It is a call to secure eternal interests. It tells of immor- 
tality — of probation — of retribution — of an eternity of 
gloom — of an eternity of glory ! It stands before her in, 
the pomp of a crowned creature of eternity ! the robes 
radiant — the eyes lustrous — the voice majestic — the dia- 
dem ablaze ! And with all tremendous, resistless elo- 
quence, warns, pleads, entreats that mortal men will rise 
from the vanities of time, and aspire and ascend to ever- 
lasting realities. 

Thus to that mother's holy thought seems the religion 
of the Bible. And, bound, as she believes herself to be 
unto a land of heavenly rest, she can not bear to think 
that her child may not be with her amid those glorious 
mansions ! Whatever may be your unbelief, she is per- 
suaded, that without personal religion there is no eternal 
life ! and without eternal life what seems all the world 
beside ? — [wealth, honor, usefulness, a conqueror's laurel, 
a monarch's throne !] Alas, they are the fair flowers 
and perfumes that only make more terrible a martyr's 
death-pyre ! A son aspiring to earthly things, yet de- 
spising the Gospel ! Alas, it seems^to her, as if her boy 



350 THE MOTHER' S SORROW. 



were floating above Niagara — now amid the rapids — 
now on the glassy death-curve, reaching for those gleam- 
ing rainbows! Her chilcVs hopeless eternity! Oh, a 
thought of this breaks a mother's heart ! 

Ah, young men, who perhaps this very day have 
thought it little that you turned away from the sanctuary 
and .broke God's holy day — and perhaps to-night will 
reject this Gospel call, and go forth to evil courses and 
companionships — pause a moment! think a moment! 
Where is that mother now ! this holy Sabbath night in 
that distant home ! Ah, this day she has been thinking 
solemnly, sadly of her absent and beloved child ! And 
see her now, bowed down before the mercy-seat praying ! 
But for what — for whom? For herself? Ah, no! 
Self is forgotten now — her own feeble strength — her 
declining years — her many cares — these are all forgot- 
ten ! Only of her child she is thinking — only for her 
child she prays ! And what asks she for her child ? 
Health ? happiness ? long life ? honor ? Oh, no ! Not 
now. Not on this holy Sabbath night ! She has been 
reading about heaven ! She has been thinking of the 
possible parting of parent and child at the coming Judg- 
ment ! And now all earthly things seem vanishing 
vapors ! Her heart is burdened with a mightier want. 
She prays for better things : that her child's heart may 
be broken in penitence — that her child's feet may be 
turned into paths of saltation ! Ah me ! those pleading 
prayers of wrestling agony, those quivering lips, those 
pillows bathed in tears, prove that an impenitent son is 
a heaviness to his mother ! 

And this is the text's thought. This is the motive 
with which we would fain arrest your feet in their evil 



THE MOTHER'S SORROW. 351 



courses! 0 men! young men! think of your mother! 
That mother that watched over you in childhood, and 
prayed for you in youth ; who, when earth was beautiful and 
life was young, made the world fairer with her smile of 
trustful love and faith. And when misfortune came, and 
friends deserted, and the world frowned, and there was 
no rainbow for the day's storm, and no star for the mid- 
night gloom — who then, only the closer for the tempest, 
took you in holy fondness to her tender heart. And 
there was no tear that she did not wipe, and no sorrow 
that she did not share, and no howl of infamy that could 
shake her faith ; and no shadow that could send a chill 
into the depths of that mighty and immortal love. OA, 
that mother — think of that mother ! and remember sim- 
ply this : That if you are walking in sinful and forbidden 
ways ; yea, if you are only living " without God and 
without hope " — if you do no more than turn away this 
night in impenitence, rejecting your Saviour — if from 
your father's glorious God, and your mother's blessed 
heaven, you go forth this solemn Sabbath hour, obstinate, 
rebellious, then you go forth to trample under foot the 
tears and the love of the breaking heart of her who bore 
you, and are this very hour a burden that may not be 
imagined — lead ! adamant ! a mountain ! a ponderous 
world ! a crushing universe ! an impenitent and ungodly 
child ! "A foolish son, the heaviness of his mother /" 



PEOGEESS IN DECAY. 



" The flower fadeth." — Isaiah, xl. 7. 

There are at least two sides to every thing. To every- 
thing in morals there is a dark and a bright side. Every 
truth is a revelation of God — a Theophany — a Shechinah. 
And, as the divine pillar in the Exodus had sometimes an 
aspect of cloud, and sometimes of fire, so is it with all 
truth. Its aj)pearance alters with our own changes of 
character or condition ; to the eye of sense it may be a 
Shechinah of gloom, to the eye of faith a Shechinah of 
glory. Thus is it with our text. 

" The flower fadeth." — It is a prophetic illustration of 
the evanescence of human life. And to the hearing of 
sense it is touchingly mournful — the very refrain of a 
dirge ! It is common in the rhetoric of the Bible to com- 
pare human life to a flower. And here its decline is 
emblemized by a flower's decay. The whole scope of the 
context is the brevity of man's sojourn on earth. u All 
flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower 
of the field: the grass withereth: because the spirit of the 
Lord bloweth upon it : surely 4he people is grass." 

" The flower fadeth." — I. Let us contemplate it first by 
the eye of sense. Let us sit solemnly together in the 
shadow of the Shechinah. How depressing seems the 
thought ! How sad the emblem ! What a tender and 



PROGRESS IN DECAY. 353 



fragile growth is " the grass ! " How short-lived all the 
goodliness of "the flower of the field!" The hardiest 
lives but a few days ; the frailest but a few moments ! 
And yet such is human life ! Its whole history is written 
on the flower's fading leaf. And the truth is especially 
befitting the closing meditation of the year. 

" The flower fadeth /" — How impressive the truth when 
toe think of others — the beloved of home and life ! How 
hath every year of our past been, like a day whose hours 
should be indicated by the Linnsean flower-dial — the 
opening and folding of different blossoms in their order — 
marked and remembered by the passing away of beloved 
ones to return no more ! Go back into childhood ! You 
may have only just passed its bright morning, neverthe- 
less you too have your dead ! There are graves over 
which even your young heart breaks. The father whose 
strong arm upheld your faltering steps ! the mother whose 
soft voice lulled you to slumber ! the young brother or 
sister who shared your childish sports and toys ! these 
may have passed from you ! And your short life hath 
been measured, as by the opening and shut of blossoms 
on " a dial of flowers ! " And if you are older, more 
touching still is the emblem. Where are the happy 
children who sat with you in the school, and went forth 
in your holiday ? the youthful band that walked beside 
you in life's green and sunny paths ? the men and women 
who shared with you life's heavier tasks and strangely 
saddened joys ? How many of them do you meet to- 
day ? Alas, most truly is your life's horologe " a dial of 
flowers." 

" The flower fadeth 1 '" — How impressive the truth when 
you think of yourselves! Where now is the bounding 



354 PROGRESS IN DE'CAY. 



heart of your childhood ? Where the unclouded hope- 
fulness of youth ? Life seems to you no longer a rapt- 
urous holiday — the freshness, the brightness, the lavish 
aroma, the glorious bloom are gone forever ! The flower 
— the flower fadeth ! 

And verily the thought saddens- us. We are in the 
shadow of the Shechinah ! You do not utter the text 
cheerily. The voice sinks instinctively into mournful 
cadence ! Even the glad heart of childhood bemoans the 
bloom of its withered garlands ! There is something so 
inexpressibly beautiful in the flowers themselves : so 
much of eloquence in their ministries and language, that 
the decay of even the commonest and smallest depresses 
the spirit. 

And the moral truth is more solemn than its emblem. 
The evanescence of human life; the passing away of our 
years ; the decay of whatsoever makes those years bliss- 
ful — all this has ever been a theme of melancholy musing. 

As the tide of time rolls on, first, youthful beauty fades 
like a flower ! watch it as you will, guard it as you may, 
yet the cheek will lose its color and the eye its fire ! 
Then activity declines, the airy step of childhood flags 
into the slow measures of weary feet ! Then strength 
decays, the right arm loses its cunning, the form bends 
under its load ! Meanwhile even the moral man seems to 
share the infirmities of the physical, the tender affections 
are chilled and -torpid, the glorious intellect unhinged or 
exhausted, as under the spells of on-coming winter. And 
it is all saddening — this withering of the human blossom, 
and the heart recoils from its emblem — a fading flower ! 

And therefore it is a fitting theme for our meditation in 
this last Sabbath of the year. Indeed, to the eye of sense, 



PROGRESS IN DECAY. 



355 



these gay holidays seem untimely — as if we were rejoicing 
over decay ! Another period of probation is ended. An- 
other stage accomplished in our journey to the grave. 
And even if it has been a year filled with divine mercies, 
yet they sadden us as things taking flight ! 

Surely solemn thoughts and emotions become us to- 
day ; ours should be hearts regretful for the past, resolved 
for the future. Warned by these memorials of decay we 
should redeem the time that remains ! 

This, as we sit in its shadow, is the text's lesson. Let 
us so live that it may be said of us truly, " His glorious 
beauty was a fading flower." For the fading flower hath 
fulfilled well its ministry ! Was its life long or short ; 
was its beauty great or little; was its sphere wide or 
narrow, the flower spoken of in the text had done well 
the special work God gave it to do. It may have been 
the rose of Sharon in the imperial gardens ; it may have 
been the queenly lily in some fair valley of Galilee ; it 
may have been some brilliant pomegranate in a rich old 
orchard ; it may have been some humble flower of the 
fragile grasses that crowned the Syrian hills as with a 
diadem. 

Richly varied and full of splendor was the flora of 
the now barren and desolate Palestine in the days when 
Isaiah swept from his harp this requiem to the withering 
flower ! And we know not on which of them all his in- 
spired vision rested. But we do know that it was upon 
one which had both blessed man and glorified God in its 
life! 

In nothing, perhaps, are there more notable differences 
than in the spheres and services of flowers. In the wild 
howling desert, where the fell simoom breathes, and the 



356 



PROGRESS IN DECAY. 



fierce sun burns, the stately palm waves its radiant 
flower-tuft, and many a lowly plant and shrub open fra- 
grant blossoms. And amid Polar ice-fields and in the 
fissured lava of volcanoes come forth these sweet chil- 
dren of the summer in their ministry of beauty and of 
love. Meanwhile, earth's fairer fields are beautified, like 
old Eden, with their blessed omnipresence. They are 
all of different classes and uses ; but each, in its own sea- 
son and sphere, makes its little life a blessing — and the 
air of heaven is sweeter, and insect-life is fed, and the heart 
of childhood is thrilled with joy, and the soul of wearied 
manhood is made happier and holier, because of the 
silent, yet earnest ministries of the fading flower ! And 
blessed shall we be if thoughts like these come with this 
consciousness of our own fading being ! If we too, in 
our own spheres and seasons — seasons, it may be, short 
as that of the primrose amid melting snows, and spheres 
humble as the violet's in some lonely vale — are, as well, 
fulfilling our appointed tasks, doing some good unto 
men, bringing some glory unto God ; so that, as at the 
departure of something whose life was beneficent, and 
whose memory will be fragrant, men watch our declining 
days and strength, saying sadly and regretfully — " The 
flower fabeth !" — " The flower fadeth /" 

II. But we may not linger longer on this sad lesson of 
the text — this shadow of our truth — this cloud-side of our 
Shechinah. For, as we said at first, it has a bitter and 
a bright side. To the eye of faith the Shechinah is 
glorious. If you will remember that flowers faded annu- 
ally in the old Eden ; and that, if the Apocalyptic " tree 
of life " be a reality, there must be an opening and dying 
of flowers even in heaven, then you will feel that, self- 



PROGRESS IN DECAY. 357 

considered, there is nothing really to sadden in these 
phenomena of vegetation. 

Indeed, did these tides of time roll over a sinless 
world, every premonition even of our mortal decay 
would awaken only joyful anticipations and emotions. 
And, instead of uttering it with a dirge-like cadence, it 
would be with exulting look and voice he cried — " The 
flower fadeth"— " Look ! Behold ! Blessed be God— the 
flower fadeth !" 

For what, after all, is a flower ? Is it in itself a per- 
fection — a consummation ? — ah no ! — far from it ! It is, at 
most, a phenomenon of progress ! And its decay is only 
the passing away of a good thing, giving place to a better ! 
The great end and purpose. of all vegetable life is the per- 
fected seed! Buds, flowers, fruity pulps, rinds, husks, 
shells, are all only parts of the same process. And thus, 
when the flower in its mysterious function has produced 
and given form to the embryon fruit, it falls away, as 
something no longer useful. And, as the better tiling 
takes its place on the stem, the philosophic thought 
should be in gladness — " the flower fadeth" — and now 
toe shall have fruit ! 

And analogous to this, is the progress and develop- 
ment of man's mortal life. Its earthly oflices and uses 
are only for the strengthening within of the spiritual 
and immortal ! — i. e., our present life, with all its ac- 
tivities and enjoyments, is but the flower-form of a being 
whose fruit-form, or seed-form, is in an after and higher 
life ! And death itself is no more than the falling of the 
petals from the well-set fruit. And therefore, as the 
wise husbandman grieves not when his orchards shower 
their gay blossoms, but rejoices, rather, because this is 



358 



PROGRESS IX DECAY. 



but a prophecy and promise of the golden wealth of 
autumn, so we should not grieve when, in the devel- 
opment of man, the mortal flower-leaves fall away frcm 
the swelling fruit of immortality- ! 

Had we the limits, it would not be unprofitable to 
consider the analogy between vegetable and human life 
in regard simply of the earthly. It applies to individ- 
uals. Fruit is ahvays of greater value than flowers. 
And, therefore, the trained intellect ; the calm judg- 
ment ; the sanctified affections ; the subdued passions ; 
the strong, regnant conscience of the mature man, are 
worth incalculably more than the fiery impulses, the hot 
and headlong passions, and all the prodigal bloom and 
aroma of his younger and fairer life. It applies as Avell to 
communities or nations — to that organic life of the race 
which constitutes its oneness. Here, too, the fruit is 
worth more than the flowers. 

The world has had its radiant spring-time and its gor- 
geous flora. In Rome, Greece, Persia, Egypt, Assyria, 
Judea, human nature put forth splendid blossoms until 
the whole air was fragrant with intoxicating aroma. 
The old philosophy, the old mythology, the old arts and 
eloquence and poetry — the whole power and passion of 
the young imperial genius of old time gave to earth the 
seeming of a fairy palace filled with shapes and sounds 
of surpassing splendor. 

And verily that weird glory hath passed away ! The 
rainbow hath left the cloud ! " The flower fadeth /" 
But have we lost by the deca} r ? Are earth and life 
sadder than in those heroic times ? Would you exchange 
your printing-press for all the pencils of old artists and 
the tongues of old orators, and the harps of old min- 



PROGRESS IN DECAY. 359 



strels? Would you barter railroad and telegraph and 
steamship for all the radiant dreams of the old idealists? 
Would you give up your simple Christian faith for the 
old gorgeous mythology — your unadorned sanctuary for 
the glorious Pantheon — your humble missionary in 
heathen lands for the old crusading chivalry on march to 
Christ's sepulchre ? Will you bid the substantial fruit 
go back into the splendid blossom ? Ah ! no indeed ! 
Fair as flowers are in their season, glorifying forest and 
field with their bloom and odor, yet more precious unto 
men are the golden grains and ripe fruits of the sombre- 
tinted autumn ! And as phenomenal of simple mortal 
life, we can say exultingly — " The flower fadeth ! '" 

But in our present meditation we are considering the 
whole of earthly life as the flower-form, rudimental to the 
heavenly fruit-form, and the analogy between flower-life 
and man-life is manifold. 

1. Flowers differ widely in their beauty and glory. 
And, among species ranking as equals, how the lily dif- 
fers from the rose, and both from the violet ! 

Yea, even of species, what a wide and wondrous va- 
riety ! The aloe shoots forth one mighty flower in a cen- 
tury, and a thousand spectators delight to watch its 
development and decay. But myriads of myriads of 
grasses and grains burst every hour into blossom, unseen, 
perhaps, save by God's omniscient eye ! And so is it of 
humanity. It has its roses and lilies and violets; and 
now and then a magnificent or monstrous aloe, and always 
its countless myriads of flowers of the grass. And al- 
though to the eye of sense the value of flowers is accord- 
ing to their outward manifestations ; yet true wisdom 
regards color and aroma as only phenomenal of progress. 



360 



PROGRESS IN DECAY. 



Presently the petals, alike of the grand flower and the 
tiny blossom, will wither, and of both the value seems 
only in the accomplishment of their Maker's purpose with 
the fruit or the seed. 

And so God accounts of his children. The king, the 
conqueror, the man of imperial gifts and genius will die 
as fades the great aloe, and the mean man and the humble 
pass away as the flower of grass. And then the search, 
as material for the Judgment, will be for the fruit or seed 
of the developed character. And, as one more true to 
his spiritual mission, the reward of the peasant may out- 
weigh immeasurably the prince's ! The obscure flower 
of the dusty wayside may have ripened more carefully 
the inner seed than the rose of the royal gardens ; and so, 
M the first shall be last and the last first ! " Meanwhile, 

2. Flowers differ widely in their seasons and spheres of 
influence. Some blossoms open only for a moment amid 
the chill airs of the lingering winter. When the north 
wind howls through the unclad forest, and no bird sings 
on the rocking boughs, then the snow-drop shoots through 
surrounding ice, and lifts its exquisite cup to the lip of 
fainting faith. Then comes the gentle primrose. Sweet 
emblem of childhood and day-star of the spring. And 
fast following, as on airy wings, troop the brighter and 
prouder creations of summer until earth" seems glorified 
like the old Eden in our delicious June. ISTor even when 
the summer hath died royally in purple and gold have 
the flowers all withered. Autumn, too, hath its flora, 
September robes herself in beauty; and brown October 
and sere November bind their brows with garlands, 
wherein the passion-flower and the tuberose are woven 
with the leaves of the corn and the vine. 



PROGRESS IN DECAY. 



361 



And like these are the spheres and seasons of' human 
life. Fair children die like snow-drops in the early spring. 
And although, at first thought, their brief mortal life 
seems without purpose, yet we may see, if we will, how 
in the heart and household their few days of blessed 
visitation wrought as wisely and mightily as the ministry 
of angels ! Oh, thank God for the faith-strengthening, 
world-conquering, heart-sanctifying influence of these pre- 
cious blossoms of the world's spring-time, even as they 
wither and die ! 

Then comes the summer flora. Men in the meridian 
splendor of their powers passing away as vineyards and 
orchards and meadows shower their prodigal blossoms. 
IsTor is the human winter without its flowers of exquisite 
fragrance and beauty. We have them in our midst, men 
whose gray heads are our crowns of glory — spirits ele- 
vated and chastened as they stand on the boundary of 
two worlds, and therefore more reverently honored ; more 
tenderly loved than Eden's youth's glorious beauty — like 
the lingering flowers of autumn, more fair and fragrant 
because of the disrobed fields and forests they beautify 
and bless ! 

And, as in their seasons, so in their spheres, men, like 
flowers, differ. At the foot of the awful arctic glacier 
did our heroic Kane find blossoms of delicate beauty ; 
and in the dreariest waste of Sahara the eye of the faint- 
ing explorer grew bright as it fell on a bursting flower ; 
and, in their living witness for God, quickening the faith 
of those troubled spirits, those frail things in their soli- 
tary spheres wrought, it may be, a nobler work than all 
the roses and lilies in the gardens of kings ! And so have 
we all found lilies blooming far out on the bosom of 

16 



362 



PROGRESS IN DECAY. 



wild mountain lakes ; or, fairer still, night-blooming flow- 
ers, on whose marvelous loveliness no sunbeam ever fell, 
and thereby on the stormy water or in the deep night 
felt our hearts more truly blessed than by all the crowded 
flora of the summer fields and woods. And so is it of 
human influence. In the loneliness of obscurity ; in the 
humiliation of poverty; in the dark chamber of patient, 
unpretending suffering, have saintly spirits wrought a 
gracious work which, in the reckonings of the coming 
Judgment, shall seem of greater worth than the eloquence 
of apostolic men in the palaces of princes, or the heroism 
of old martyrs dying bravely for Christ. 

3. Meantime human life and flower life are alike, 
mainly because both are phenomenal of progress. This 
we have already spoken of as the bright side of our 
Shechinah, changing the seeming of our text from a sound 
of requiem into a song of triumph. The flower fadeth. 
But what is a flower ? Only a temporary protection of 
the inner fruit or seed ! So that when its petals fall 
away, it is only as the removal of the scaffolding from a 
perfected temple ! 

And such is man's earthly life. And, therefore, it is 
short — as the flower-form of an immortal growth under 
development for grander forms and uses. Yerily, our 
words are false when we speak of old men and old 
women on the earth! We might better term a plant 
" old " because its early flowers had withered ! Even the 
nine hundred and ninety years of the antediluvian life 
left the spiritual man only the young infant of immor- 
tality ! There is no such thing as an old sonDn the uni- 
verse ! The fires of passion may die ; the vigor of youth 
ful hope decay ; the frame-work become decrepit ; even 



PROGRESS IN DECAY. 



363 



the heart deaden in its fervent love, and the mind lessen 
its imperial range of thought ; and yet all this be no 
more than phenomenal of progress — the withering of the 
petals around seed and fruit maturing for the immortal ! 
And, as the fruit is ever only just set on the spray when 
the flower fades, so the man dying at fourscore is only 
the young germ passing into a higher form of the endless 
life ! 

Earthly life is short, and we would not have it longer. 
The season of flowers is full of peril to the tender germ of 
fruit. As the variable spring-time passes into the sun- 
nier and.serener summer, the husbandman rejoices more 
and more over the ever-ripening harvest. And so would 
true wisdom rejoice over even man's outward decay. And 
it should not be regretfully, bat with accents of joyous 
hope, as, sitting in the bright side of this solemn truth, 
we cry, " The floioer fadeth" 

We can not trace the analogy farther. Indeed it 
scarcely goes farther. Of man's future world and work, 
even with all the light revelation casts on them, we 
know very little. Having no experience of such things, 
a language which appeals only to experience can have no 
power to describe them. But even in that direction 
these earthly analogies may be suggestive. Having per- 
fected the seed, nature's next care is to disperse or dis- 
tribute them. Some are borne away on their own airy 
wings, and as they float up in the sunshine, freed of their 
heavy earthy beauty, the perfected seed, as a spiritual- 
ized blossom, seems fairer than all flowers ! Some are 
borne across oceans, and take root in other continents. 
Some find spheres in new islands, making what was, be- 
fore, a desert beautiful with the rich garniture of summer. 



364 PROGRESS IN DECAY. 

And what a development some of them have in the after- 
life ! An acorn, which a singing-bird might bear across 
a continent, becomes a giant oak, and a thousand beasts 
and birds for generations rejoice in its shadow ! The 
Indian fig-seed germinates and takes root, and lo ! the 
stately banyan-tree rises and spreads itself, each branch 
bending to the ground, and forming a new stock, until 
an empire's armies are sheltered by its magnificent 
growth ! Such is the progress and development of that 
whose young life was born of a fading flower ! Oh, to 
a prescient eye what possibilities, what colors of beauty, 
what forms of majesty, what felicities, what glorious 
hopes, what ineffable fruitions, are embosomed in a 
seed ! And analogous to this — but immeasurably more 
wonderful — are the embryonic powers, and shall be the 
development, of the human soul in the after-state ! The 
babe, whose fair form we laid yesterday into the grave, 
will become a creature, in wisdom and power and love 
transcending all our present conceptions of what Gabriel 
is — yea, of what God himself is ! Of such things we are 
not thinking to speak. Of the immortal man changed 
and glorified we could not perhaps bear the blinding 
vision ! And if, responsive to our yearning love, one 
should come back for an hour to move visibly before us 
— revealed in the realities of that transepulchral life — 
instinct with its new powers, clothed upon with its new 
organs, speaking with heavenly tongue, wearing the 
heavenly diadem — oh, then, instead of a joyous up- 
spring to that blessed bosom, uttering the old familiar 
names— " friend," "father," "mother," "sister," "child" 
— methinks we should shrink abashed from the blinding 
splendor of that new creature of God ! Best for us is it 



PROGRESS IN DECAY. 



365 



that heaven's wonders are unseen, and heaven's words 
are unspeakable. Enough for us till our own change 
come ; and ours too are the eagle-wings that can lie afloat 
far up on the azure ocean, and soar highest toward the 
sun, just to know the great fact of immortality — that 
death is not destruction, but development — the earthly 
flower-form just passing into the higher fruit-form — "the 
mortal," not destroyed, but " putting on the immortal- 
ity ;" so that, perceiving by faith how the blossom falls 
away, just to give a freer sphere and a fuller measure 
of God's air and sunshine to the growing fruit, we can 
change the old requiem into a triumph-song ; crying out 
regretfully, but rejoicingly — " The flower — the flower 
fadeth/" 

These are the two aspects of our simple text — aspects 
differing like the dark and bright side of a cloud in 
heaven, and yet both needful for our instruction. This 
truth has a side of sorrow ; and we need it that we may 
not fasten our affections too strongly on the things of 
earth. 

Ah me ! how foolish were a child so lavishing its love 
on a lily or rose that the heart must break forever when 
the fragile blossom dies ! And how surpassing, then, 
the madness of an immortal spirit loving supremely these 
earthly things — wealth, pleasure, power, glory ! Alas for 
them ! The flower fadeth ! Where are the wise, the re- 
nowned, the mighty of the past ? — the kings, the conquer- 
ors, the statesmen, the orators, the bards, whose names are 
yet powers on the earth ; whose tread and voice shook 
the world? Where are they? Gone ! gone, to the land 
of darkness and dust and oblivion. " Thefloioer fadeth ! " 
It must fade, for it is a flower only. Let us look, there- 



366 PROGRESS IN DECAY. 



fore, upon earthly life as it is, and accept the text's lesson 
of the evanescence of all that is mortal. Behold that 
fair blossom ! How like a crowned queen it lifts itself 
amid growing things ! How the sun loves to shine on 
it, and the air to fan it ! It looks like a creature fash- 
ioned in heaven for some precious purpose, and an end- 
less life. But see! ere the set of sun the radiant vision 
passes ; the bright leaves wither, fall, perish ! The beauty 
decays — " The flo wer fadeth ! ' " Truly sad as a requiem 
over all earthly things is the text's first utterance. 

But blessed be God it hath another meaning, and may 
be chanted in other and exalting cadences. The flower is 
not a perfection. It is not the most of a thing, nor the 
best of it. Within and behind the sere petals behold the 
expanding fruit ! And so it is of life and time. There- 
fore, ye children of God, dwell more and more in the 
bright side of truth. See how the wings are growing 
strong under the breaking shell ! Behold the glistening 
plumes of the angel in Gethsemane's night ! Why sit for- 
lorn under the cypresses where the beloved dead repose ? 
They overshadow only the withered garlands of the ban- 
quet whence the glorious guest hath gone ! 

Why bemoan these signals of your own decay — these 
growing infirmities, these multiplying pains, this dulling 
of the senses, this weakening of the thought- wings, these 
chills upon the heart ? They are but the relaxing of 
iEolian cords in the dews of the day-spring ; but the in- 
termitting of the eagle's wing-beat in self-poise as he 
floats nearer to the sun. They are phenomenal of ap- 
proach to spheres of seraph and archangel. 

Thank God, when vernal woods shower their prodigal- 
blossoms: they are but the drooping of banners in gor- 



PROGRESS IN DECAY. 



3G7 



geous heralding of autumnal kings ! Thank God that 
our years, even by reason of strength, can be only four- 
score ! Thank God that another stroke hath fallen on 
the great bell of time ! Thank God that the mighty 
train hath accomplished another stage toward eternity ! 
Thank God for the deepening earthly night, dusking the 
sheen of our grasses, but brightening our stars ! Thank 
God for a faith that changes from requiem into triumph- 
song this old prophetic dirge — " The flower fadeth" — 
" The flower fadeth ! " 



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